So Not An Angel!
by DeansBabyBird
Summary: Dean is suffering terribly in the aftermath of his time with the Daemon, Belial. Will Sam be able to find his brother the help he needs to come to terms with what he has become? Sequel to 'The Fallen', this story picks up just days after Dean's rescue.
1. Chapter 1

**So Not An Angel!**

Chapter One Nightmares

**A hotel room. Three days after Dean's rescue, and the Angels departure.**

The figure in the bed nearest the door was propped awkwardly favouring his right side; his body tense with pain even as he slept. Pillows supported a left shoulder which was tram-tracked the length of his collar bone with inflamed sutures, and dappled with ugly peacock-hued bruises.

The man's ribs were heavily strapped; the tight bandages brightly white against honey brown skin dotted with freckles. His left hand too was bandaged and he cradled it in towards his body with a defensive tenacity.

His bruised face was turned towards the door; a recently sutured wound chasing across his cheek and his long dark lashes smudging the grey circles beneath his closed eyes.

When he breathed it was slightly shallow and he hiccupped softly with pain every so often, but it was regular and that was reassuring. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully and his observer sighed tiredly, relieved that sleep had finally claimed him. He gently drew the covers up over the sleeping figure and resumed his silent vigil.

wWw

"Sam?"

Dean's voice was quiet and sleepy, and the lack of strength within his question could have easily been attributed simply to recent wakefulness, but Sam knew better and could hear the poorly disguised lingering pain even in that single soft word.

Sam waited, heart pounding and senses on full alert, to see if this awakening was going to result in another of the now familiar desperate entreaties for comfort that the violent nightmares had wrought from his terrified brother in the time since they had rescued him.

"Stop watching me when I sleep Dude, it's creeping me out!"

Sam smiled in relief, grateful that this time no screams of terror accompanied Dean's gradual consciousness; that he did not have to sit beside his brother as his broken body shook with fear, jarring his barely healed wounds and dragging moans of pain from him to chorus with his confused and fearful murmurings.

Reassured Sam slowly turned his eyes back to his computer, marvelling at how his brother could tell that he had indeed been watching him as he slept. It never failed to intrigue Sam how Dean knew, but whenever he asked all Dean would ever say was that it was his 'big brother Spidey-sense!' So Sam had stopped expecting a sensible answer and just accepted it as part of the enigma that was Dean.

"Sorry Bro."

Dean heard the familiar tapping of laptop keys resume and he allowed the soothing noise to surround him. It helped him to steady his breathing and reminded him that he was here with Sam in the hotel room; safe. Helped him to force his hated panic and fear into a silent walled place within him; to pretend he was OK for Sam.

He focussed on the steady cadence of the keys and matched his racing heart beat to its calmer pace, reaching out to wakefulness and the pain that would inevitably bring as a welcome distraction from the raging turmoil within. Turmoil he dare not even contemplate connecting with.

Dean carefully opened his eyes, and was surprisingly pleased to find that he was able to almost fully open his bloodshot left eye now though his vision remained fuzzy and blurred; the swelling from his broken cheekbone having subsided over the last three days.

He smiled ironically at his own sense of achievement, laughing inwardly at the fact that he would place significance on such a minor improvement in light of all his other injuries, and the celebratory movement ground the fragmented bones in his cheek together and his premature smile became a soft but unmistakable hiss of pain.

The keyboard tapping ceased immediately the subdued exclamation not lost to Sam's sharp ears.

"You okay, Dean?"

The question was both comfort and irritant to Dean. Comfort in that he was still acutely conscious of his absolute and desperate relief that he was here in this dingy motel room with Sam rather than back at "My Tartarus" with the daemon. Yet it irritated him because that was the 300plus time he had heard it since regaining consciousness, and it reminded him how broken and damaged he was and worse still that he was unable to hide his pitiful state from Sam.

"Do you need any help?"

Sam cringed inwardly as he heard those words leave his lips. That was so not the question to ever ask Dean and certainly not when he was in so hurt that unchecked pain and fear oozed through the myriad cracks within his crumbling defences, and loathed vulnerability dulled his translucent jade eyes.

Sam sat in silent contrition as unspoken waves of irritation and frustration assaulted him from the direction of Dean's bed, kicking himself for thoughtlessly ruining a potentially good start to the day.

wWw

Raphael's normally serene face was troubled; his smoky grey eyes clouded with doubt. He wanted to trust in Michael's wisdom but was concerned that the decision his elder brother was making was a bridge too far; too soon. He looked to Raguel and saw the same glimmer of doubt mirrored in his pale blue gaze.

"Michael..."

Raguel began but was halted as The Prince of Angels raised a gentle hand and laid it on Raphael's arm.

"I know what you are going to say, Raphe."

Warmth and compassion resonated in Michael's words, and Raphael rejoiced again that they had been able to free him from the daemon's long and brutal possession and return him to his rightful position.

'I know it's soon to leave Uri behind. He will be distressed, angry, and afraid and will no doubt find a way to interpret my decision as punishment for his perceived failure of judgement. Yet anticipating all that, you know that we must go and check that the Gate is secure, that the one we banished is contained as are the myriad others. We cannot concentrate on our task if we have to worry constantly about Uriel."

He paused watching the other angels' nods of agreement.

"We all need to be at full strength and Uriel's leg is not entirely healed..."

Raphael interrupted.

"I need only a few more days, Michael, and his leg will be as strong as it's ever going to be..."

Michael squeezed his brother's arm and Raphe hushed, knowing his words were pointless; that Michaels assessment of the situation was fair and just.

"I know you could and then you would be worn out, Raphe, and I need your strength and Raguel's for the work ahead of us."

Raphael lowered his head and Michael felt his brother's grief that he had not more to give.

"Raphe, you have nothing to reproach yourself for. You have already worked...well...miracles!"

Raguel laughed suddenly; a deep throaty laugh that warmed the room, and they all chuckled irreverently at Michael's provocative choice of words.

Raphael's skills as a healer were legend and he had indeed made masterful in-roads into the younger of the brother's physical recovery in a very short time.

"It's not just his leg though, Raphe, you know as well as me. His physical injuries were inconsequential besides the damage that the daemon did to his soul."

Michael paused, and steadily held the gaze of his brothers, and their intertwined hearts were joined in the desperate knowledge that he was correct. Uriel's spirit had been bruised and battered by the events of his beloved older brother's possession.

He had come to doubt himself, his abilities and his very faith. He was fragile and vulnerable and would be a potential liability until his soul regained its strength. He must be left behind for now even though it would hurt him dreadfully.

Raphael sighed; his resignation weighing heavily on his heart, and Michael felt compassion for his companion. In the long time that he had been lost to them, he knew that they had grown ever closer, and that Raphael worried for Uriel as he did.

Raguel raised his huge hand and laid it on Michael's shoulder, his strong face gently questioning.

"So what do we tell him, My Prince, and where on Earth do we leave him where he will be safe?"

wWw

Sam cracked their motel room door as quietly as he could desperate not to wake Dean from his fitful slumber. He ushered Jo in with a finger to his lips, his dark hazel eyes entreating her to silence as he reached to relieve her of the burden of cups of coffee and takeout food bags.

The tiny hunter stepped carefully over the multiple lines of salt that guarded the door and gently eased the door shut, wincing at the dull squeak of the rusted hinges.

In the bed nearest the door Dean twitched at the noise murmuring softly; his brow creasing slightly but he did not wake.

Jo crept to the table at the back of the room and helped Sam set their late breakfast on the tattered surface, her worried face searching his for clues to Dean's condition.

"How is he?"

She whispered, her eyes stealing to the still form tucked up in the messy bed.

"Not as bad a night as the last few."

Sam kept his voice low as he wrestled the top from one off the coffee cups, instantly discarding it as it had no sugar or cream.

"He slept?"

She smiled as she handed him another coffee cup and watched the tall hunter raise it gratefully to his lips.

"Yeah, woke for his meds but he slept some more after his pain settled."

Jo raised her own coffee and took a sip of the volcanically hot liquid. She smiled relieved to know that Dean had slept a little.

"And the nightmares?"

Sam lowered his cup, worried hazel eyes looking from beneath untidy chocolate brown bangs.

"Well he didn't wake up screaming this time."

Jo could hear the raw pain in Sam's exhausted voice and she suppressed a slight shudder, reliving in her head the terrified screams of anguish that had rent the silence of the room all too frequently over the three days since they had rescued Dean from the daemon. She felt the ache of the bruises on her arms where Dean's fingers had gripped her in his hazy consciousness, as the terrors of his captivity had reverberated through his broken body.

She looked closely at Sam, taking in his dishevelled clothes, pale, sleep deprived face and the dark circles beneath his dull eyes. He was exhausted she could tell and she feared how much longer he could keep up this vigil.

"Thank you for letting me sleep the night through, Sam."

He smiled and nodded his head slowly, taking another swallow of his coffee.

"You needed it."

"You're right, but so do you Sam. We need some help here."

She cast her eyes back to the bed again, unconsciously checking that its occupant was breathing steadily.

"What do you think about trying to make it to Bobby's? Dean's more stable now and we could reason with him and get him to take the stronger pain meds you got for him for the journey"

Sam put his coffee down and accepted the toasted bagel that Jo had unwrapped as they were speaking. He took a big bite realising as it hit his rumbling stomach that he was starving.

"I'd like to go to Bobby's, Jo; I think we need his help. Dean's been through such a lot and he's ...he's hurt inside... Normally he'd be happy to go to Bobby's, hell it's one of the very few places he's always felt something like safe. When either of us has been hurt bad in the past it's the place we always headed for, but you saw what he was like when I suggested it before. It was like he was terrified at the prospect."

Sam paused, his voice catching as he looked at his sleeping brother.

"He won't talk about what happened with the daemon, Jo, and it's eating him up! I don't know how to reach him; how do I help him if I don't know what's wrong?"

Jo watched the anguish of his breaking heart written on his pale face and felt her own tears pricking at her eyes but she pushed them away. Sam didn't need tears now he needed strength and if that's all she could do then she would damn well do that!

"Right then! Go shower and I'll pack your stuff. We_ are_ going to Bobby's and Dean will just have to get his head round that."

Sam smiled hesitantly, heartened by his friends strength and determination. He pushed the rest of the bagel into his mouth and grabbed clean clothes from his duffel, heading for the shower as he chewed. He paused at the bathroom door.

"What about your gear, Jo?"

The tiny blond girl smiled knowingly.

"Already packed and in the car."

Sam laughed quietly, grateful for Jo's companionship and struggling with the words to tell her so. She waved him away her smile telling him that she understood his unspoken message.

"Go! The sooner you shower, the sooner we can leave."

wWw

Dean was gasping for breath; the pain as his ribs inexorably cracked pushing the air from his burning lungs. He wanted to scream, either for mercy or for death he didn't much care anymore, but he couldn't suck enough air to form even a single word. Fear grasped at his heart as he fought desperately against the slide back into his hated nightmare.

Jo's alert ear heard the soft moan and she was at Dean's side in an instant. She did not touch him but watched to see if he would simply stir briefly and then return to his much needed slumber. She registered the fitful movement of his head, and the rapid dart of his eyes beneath closed lids indicating he was dreaming. He shifted slightly; moving his less damaged right hand to guard his bandaged ribs and she saw his brow crease in pain. She glanced to the bathroom door, urgently calling Sam's name.

Dean trembled in terrified anticipation as he felt Mikey's hand close about his shattered shoulder remembering the pain from recent reality and knowing this return to it would be, if anything, worse. He looked into obsidian eyes lustfully alive with the pleasure of his pain and heard again Mikey's casually evil voice gloating at his suffering.

Panic flooded his body as the daemon's cruel hand punished him unmercifully and he squeezed his eyes closed as the dream stripped his mind of the ability to distinguish reality from fevered nightmare.

Dean's back arched convulsively, pushing his injured body up from the bed as his head forced back against the damp pillows. The line of sutures in his torn shoulder strained against the inflamed wound and tiny blossoms of crimson decorated the fevered skin. He moaned breathlessly, and his indecipherable words mingled with the pitiful utterances of pain.

Sam reached Jo as her second shout echoed about the small room and he knelt urgently on the bed beside his brother and placed strong hands on the convulsing mans shoulders , trying to ease him back against the mattress. He glanced at Jo, and with a voice that belied his growing panic said.

"Jo. Hold his legs down, we have to stop him writhing, he's gonna dislocate his shoulder again if we can't get him to ease down!"

Jo nodded and flung her scant weight against Dean's legs but in his terror he was far stronger than she and she could not hold him down. Sam winced as sutures popped and warm blood washed over his fingers. Under his palm he felt the head of Dean's humerus grinding in its tenuous socket.

Dean's shoulder grated as the daemon's hands pawed at him and it whispered that he would yet bend to its will, and he flung his own hands out, desperate to lose the creature from his straining body. He contacted the daemon's chest and pushed with the remaining strength he possessed, crying out weakly for it to stop.

"Please...NO!"

The words echoed in Sam's head, his brother's agony and despair tearing a trail of ruination through his heart, and he continued to murmur Dean's name amongst the soft soothing litany of words he crooned in an effort to break the nightmare and bring his brother back to him from wherever he suffered.

Jo climbed onto the bed at the opposite side to Sam, her voice joining his

"Please, Dean! Try and come back to us... we're here ...you're safe, the daemon is gone...you can stop fighting!"

Dean could hear the voices distantly, somewhere behind the daemon's foul mantra, and knew they sounded like Sam and Jo but he couldn't remember if they were real? Had they saved him? All that seemed real for him was the daemon and his endless pain.

"They are not real, Dean."

In his confusion, Mikey whispered, his hot breath caressing the struggling hunters neck. Perhaps Mikey was telling the truth? They couldn't be there because they would have saved him from this agony if they were; would have stopped the daemons red hot claws from searing him again and again. Dean fought to distinguish memory from current reality but the voices in his head, and the grinding pain in his body defeated him.

Sam watched as the lean muscles in Dean's arms bunched tightly as he tried to fight off Sam's restraining hands and the bandages on his right hand turned red as the knife wound gaped and bled within its wrappings. He could feel Dean's whole body trembling with the effort of his struggle and Sam could hear him panting with exhaustion. Beneath his hand Dean's shoulder joint ground alarmingly.

"Jo?"

Frightened honey brown eyes looked up at him questioningly.

"Sit on his legs; push him down onto the bed. His shoulders nearly out..."

Jo straddled Dean's writhing body and sat carefully down on his thighs, one hand on his taught abdomen as her weight finally drove him to the mattress.

Dean felt the weight of his despair crushing him down as the events of the last few days replayed horribly before his eyes, but he also heard the daemons voice whispering in real time telling him that he was still his and he would find him soon. He shuddered unable to fight anymore and as blessed unconsciousness started to envelope him, he did not struggle against it.

Sam felt Dean's body suddenly go limp beneath his hands and he watched with horror as his brothers breathing became shallow and thready. He glanced nervously at Jo and saw his distress mirrored on her face.

"What's happening, Sam?"

Jo moved her hand higher onto Dean's bandaged chest, checking for breathing.

"He's barely breathing..."

Panic tinged Sam's voice as he wrapped his large hands around Dean's upper arms and lifted him a little way from the pillows. Dean's head lolled back weakly.

"Come on, Dean, don't do this to me."

Sam was scared. Dean looked lifeless, his face pale and lips bloodless. Sam gripped his slack arms and shook his still body.

Pain flared for Dean pushing away the nightmares, and he groaned hoarsely in the back of his parched throat as he struggled to open his exhausted eyes seeking its source. He could hear voices somewhere around him but the words were indistinct.

Sam saw Dean's eyelids flicker slightly and shook him again more vigorously.

"That's it, bro, come on open your eyes!"

Dean heard Sam's voice, or at least it sounded like Sam. He heard it entreat him to open his eyes and he tried.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief as his saw a slit of unfocussed pale green, and he released one of Dean's arms catching Dean's rolling head in his gentle hand, supporting him to find focus on Sam's face. Jo moved to sit at Dean's shoulder, her arm catching him as he wobbled.

"Sam?"

Dean's voice was a dry whisper but sounded wonderful to Sam.

"I'm right here Bro, I got ya. You're safe now."

Dean found Sam's face at last. His uncoordinated gaze flickered around Sam's face taking in his tiredness.

"How y...doing, S...Sam? Y'okay?"

Dean's voice was slurred and full of pain.

"Yeah, Dean, I'm fine, how about you?"

"Peachy!"

Sam huffed a small laugh out, his glance flickering to Jo as he watched his brother gather the crumbling remnants of his inner defences and attempt to stow his shameful fears behind them, away from prying eyes.

"That was a bad one! You were back in Tartarus?"

Jo watched as Dean fought to re-establish his fragile control; pretending everything was fine so he could push them away and she saw the hurt in Sam's gentle eyes. She wanted to shake Dean and beg him to let his brother in; to let him help but she knew better and held her tongue.

"It was... just a stupid dream, Sam. Leave it ...I'm fine."

Dean shifted in Sam's embrace, trying to shake his brother's grip. The younger hunter held his position until green eyes wide with fear fled his penetrating stare.

"You're gonna have to talk about it sometime."

Sam's soft eyes bored into Dean and he squirmed inwardly, part of him desperate to let the terror that twisted his gut out but the rest of him too afraid to voice his fears. He took in a trembling breath and returned his gaze to Sam. Green ice matched hazel brown as their eyes met.

"No ...I ... I don't."

Jo heard determination behind the breathless words and she felt Dean stiffen against her embrace.

"Dean, these are more than just 'stupid dreams', you're..."

"Look, Sam, I had..."

A sudden intake of breath paused Dean's words as pain flared in his shoulder.

"I had...a rough time for a while there. That's all this is."

Sam watched his brother's eyes and knew that he was categorically lying; that his dreams were tearing him apart but he also saw that Dean absolutely would not discuss the matter. Anger stirred within him, driven by fear. Fear for Dean's wellbeing, sanity even, and it spilled out of him.

"Why do you do this, Dean? Why do you push me away? I just wanna help you!"

Jo watched as Sam's hands tightened on Dean's upper arms shaking the older hunter as he pulled him up from the pillows he'd slumped against. She knew it was a gesture born of love and concern but she felt Dean gasp and saw his face blanch in pain.

"Sam...Lemme go...hurting me!"

Dean's voice was a growled mixture of mounting fury and hiccupping pain, and he raised his hands placing them on Sam's forearms trying to shake off his brothers rage fuelled grip.

"Well if you won't speak to me, maybe Bobby'll be able to get some sense outta ya."

Dean's left hand thrust determinedly against Sam's chest, and Jo watched as blood squelched from the oozing bandage to make a handprint on the white cotton of Sam's shirt.

"I am... NOT going ...to...to Bobby's!"

"Why not, Dean? He can help you."

Sam's raised voice was incredulous; his own exhaustion and worry for his brother sapping his patience to the point where he could not restrain his temper. He knew he was hurting Dean as he shook him, jamming him repeatedly into the pillows but he was powerless to stop. Dean's cries of pain became louder as he thrashed helplessly in Sam's strong grip, but even that did not break through Sam's rage.

"Sam...Sam!"

Jo stretched her arm forward and gripped Sam's shoulder, digging her fingers into him as his did into Dean.

"Stop it. You're hurting him, Sam. Let him go!"

She shook Sam's shoulder; watching as Sam's distress driven fury subsided and his face took on a look of horrified realisation. He lessened his grip, lowering his gasping brother back into Jo's arms, rising from the bed to stand wringing his hands.

"Dean! I'm sorry! Jeez are you ok man?"

Jo heard the cry for absolution in Sam's words and watched in amazement as Dean's eyes flicked open and locked straight onto Sam's, all anger gone and only the urgent need to calm Sam etched within the trembling green depths.

"Okay...Sam ...M'okay."

Jo eased Dean back against the pillows, turning to face him as she sat at this side on the bed.

"Sam."

Her voice held control and Sam's gaze moved reluctantly from his brother to her.

"Get the first aid kit and some hot water ."

Sam nodded; his shame filled eyes peeking out from beneath his brown bangs, and he turned and hurried towards the bathroom door, glad for an activity to divert his mind from his reprehensible actions.

Jo turned back to face Dean and assessed the state of the older hunter. The carefully placed sutures in his shoulder wound were burst in a number of places and fresh blood stained his shoulder and the bandages on his ribs. Similarly his left hand wore a newly crimson wrapping as it lay oozing onto the covers. He was pale and sweaty; his breathing shallow and short as he tried to minimise the motion of grating ribs, yet his eyes were alert, alive with pain and fixed on hers.

"What hurts most? Your shoulder, your hand or your stupid stubborn head?"

Dean's dilated eyes widened even more and he opened his mouth to speak only to have his words swallowed by a cry of pain as Jo lifted up his bleeding hand and begin to undo the soggy dressing.

"You are a stubborn pig headed man, Dean Winchester! Your brother just wants to help you. You do it for him all the time; let him look after you for once."

Dean couldn't speak, he pretended to himself it was the pain of his injuries that halted the breath in his lungs but in truth it was Jo's penetrating words that threatened his crumbling facade.

"Why do you think you have to face what the daemon has done to you on your own?"

Jo removed the last of the dressing from Dean's hand and winced to see the torn stitches there too. She laid his hand carefully on the sheet and looked into emerald eyes subdued with fatigue and pain.

"Why don't you wanna go to Bobby's? He'll be able to help."

Dean couldn't hold her gaze for fear she would see into the confused chaos within him and he looked down at the sheets. He felt Jo shift on the bed and then her warm arms ever so gently wrapping around him as she drew him into her body. He nestled his aching head into her soft neck and closed his eyes. He was so tired and every bit of him hurt.

Jo could feel the shudders of pain running though his body as she held him and she wanted to tell him to let go; that she would be his strength for a while if he would let her. But she knew he would hate her for it so she held him as tightly as she dared, mindful of his wounds, and rubbed his back with soft tender movements trying to let him know she was there for him.

"Please, Dean, let's go to Bobby's?"

She felt him lean in to her, his body heavy and hot against her.

"Just talk to him. I'm sure he'll know what to do."

Jo felt Dean's breath shudder and hot tears on her neck as he struggled to speak.

"Can't..."

She held him tighter, her own tears running into his hair, where her face brushed against the short spikes of dark blond.

"Why, Dean?"

She pulled away from him, her gentle hand turning his face to hers. His eyes sparkled with moisture and misery.

"Why?"

"Scared..."

He breathed the word on a whisper of air rather than spoke it and she knew it was torn reluctantly from behind his tumbling walls. She felt his terror, the turmoil within him and her heart longed to help him.

"Scared of what?"

He looked into her eyes then, and she felt herself lost in a gaze that glowed with an intense pure white light.

"Of what I have become, Jo. Of what I might be!"

Chapter ends

I'd be pleased to know what you thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**So Not An Angel!**

Chapter Two Reunions

"So Uri, I have your agreement?"

Michael held his brother's bright white eyes in his calm but authoritative gaze, accepting and absorbing the wave upon wave of powerful emotion that flowed from the younger man.

Their conversation had been hours in the telling and it had ranged from desperate plea, to terrified entreaty, to humiliated rage; all of which Michael had been prepared for and had dealt with calmly, with infinite patience and compassion for his beloved brother.

Thus they came to this point; Michael clear that Uriel could not go with them to ensure that the integrity of The Gate was unsullied and Uriel absolutely and utterly determined that he would not be left behind!

"Michael, please!"

Uriel paced the path he had been following for the last hour, backwards and forwards over the 10 or 12 slow paces that had him cover the length of the room, his limp becoming ever more pronounced even as he tried desperately to hide it from Michael's knowing stare.

"Uri, please sit, I can see your leg pains you."

Michael indicated the armchair before him as the frantic man glanced briefly towards him, never pausing in his agitated march.

"I'm fine, my leg is fine."

Uriel's voice was strained, rising panic giving it a bitter edge that he knew would gain him no ground with his brother. He breathed slowly trying to calm himself and find the words that he knew must exist that would change Michael's mind.

"Rapheal can finish my leg as we..."

Michael interrupted him, his voice all reasoned logic.

"Uri, we have been through this a dozen times now. Raphael has done a wonderful job of saving your leg, and yes, I can see it is much improved but you know how exhausting healing on such a scale is, even for someone of Raphe's talents."

Michael's eyes demanded Uri's and the younger man reluctantly acquiesced with a single nod.

"And not only that Uri but Raphe gave his strength to the binding we performed and to the hardly inconsequential matter of Dean Wincheste. I need whatever reserves he has left to ensure The Gate holds."

Uriel paused in his relentless pacing; he was being outclassed and out flanked in his arguments and he felt the semblance of calm he was desperately trying to project slip a little further from him.

"So I'll stay in the background, Michael; I'll walk not run."

Uriel smiled his most winning smile at Michael and watched it make not one iota of difference. His blood pressure hiked a notch.

"OK then, I'll sit not stand, but I am bloody well going with you! I will not be left here on my own."

Michael steepled his hands and looked over them towards his now dangerously still brother. He could feel Uriel's mounting anger and desperation. However he remained immovable.

"No, Uriel."

Uri tipped his head back feeling his face flushing as within him rising panic made him feel sick to his stomach.

"God dammit, Michael, I've only just found you. Please I cannot bear this."

Michael rose ignoring Uriel's irreverent outburst and was at his brothers side in a stride. He placed his steady hand on Uriel's shoulder.

"Uri, please. Come and sit down."

Uriel looked into Michael's ethereal violet eyes and watched the complexity gained over millennia that was The Prince of Angels and knew he was defeated. Anger left him and with it went the show of relative composure he had been projecting. Panic overtook him, and he found himself staggering on a leg that would not support him as hot pain lanced from that limb to his fragile psyche.

Michael slipped his strong arm around his brother as he stumbled and guided him effortlessly to the chair, settling him with care against the cushions before retaking his own position. He sat forward in his seat, his hand resting softly on Uri's knee as he began to speak.

"Uriel, if I had my choice I would not leave you. Not now, not ever."

Uriel did not raise his head and Michael waited watching ragged breaths send tiny tremors through the white blond spikes of hair on Uriel's bowed head.

"Do you believe me?"

Still the younger man did not raise his head but Michael heard his quiet response.

"Yes, I believe you."

"Look at me, Uri, please."

Michael's voice was gentle; his compassionate heart beating a soft cadence through his words. Uriel raised his head and Michael saw grief, shame, fear and loss in his brother's near-colourless eyes.

"Uriel, I am afraid for you. I sense your loss; know that my possession and absence have hurt you beyond measure."

Uriel wanted to look away from that seeking, penetrating, knowing gaze yet he knew if he did he would spiral down into the turmoil within himself. He held Michael's eyes anchoring him to that promise of safety and strength.

"This was not your fault, Uri."

Uriel's gasp was filled with reproach and self-doubt.

"I made it worse, Michael. I didn't listen to Raguel and Raphe; I went after the daemon on my own, full of myself as always and I damn near ruined the whole thing! If it had been left to me that bastard creature would still have you and..."

Uri's words spilled out, his shame and anger tumbling them over each other. He reached forward as he spoke, his hands catching hold of Michael's forearms.

"And all the time all I could think of was that you were trapped in that...that...thing. Seeing the foul things that it...you...perpetrated. And I couldn't free you, couldn't help you."

Uriel's voice trailed off, hot tears spilling from his eyes; splashing onto their joined hands.

"But I am free, Uri, nothing you did..."

Uriel's grip tightened and his eyes locked onto Michael's, desperation and anger written across his haggard face. He laughed, a desolate disbelieving laugh filled with bitter humour.

"You say 'Nothing I did?' Do you know what I did, Michael? I prayed. I prayed so hard for your release. And do you know what happened? Fuck all. Nothing happened. For the decades of your absence I prayed and He did not listen to me!"

Michael heard his brother's despair in those bleak words and sadness and fear filled his heart. He wanted to restore the light that had always radiated from Uriel, the most faithful of the divine host, but he knew that was not his gift to give.

Michael knew too that he was right and that Uriel could not walk close to the Unholy Gate without his faith to mantle his damaged soul. Yet he loathed to leave his brother, to be separated so soon when Uriel so needed someone to guide and protect him.

The answer came to Michael softly as a delicate whisper through his mind, and he smiled his thanks for the inspiration.

"Uri, I need your help. Will you help me?

wWw

Jo felt Dean start as the bathroom door banged open and Sam re-entered the small stuffy room. She watched as Dean quickly brushed the tears from his cheeks and his eyes implored her to silence. She nodded and he was rewarded with a soft sigh of relief as she eased him back against the pillows.

Sam set the bowl down carefully on the other bed and neatly lay dressings and suturing needles next to the steaming water, his eyes nervously darting to Dean as he did so.

Sam's guilt hiked further as he looked on the stark reality of his anger towards his brother. Dean was slumped painfully on the bloodstained sheets. He was pale and his skin was sheened with sweat and fresh blood. Sam could see him trembling and his breathing was rapid and shallow.

Dean watched Sam's face blanch as his guilt-ridden eyes took in the aftermath of their disagreement and his instinctual need to protect his baby brother kicked in.

"So, Sam?"

Dean's voice was quiet and husky.

"Which first? Hand or shoulder?"

Relief flooded through Sam as Dean's implied assumption that his brother would now suture the damage he had partially wrought spoke volumes for Dean's ability to forgive.

Sam visibly relaxed and as he knelt beside the bed to examine Dean's re-opened wounds he had almost smiled.

"Thought you might want Jo to do them, Dean?"

He carefully eased Dean's hand from the sheets as he spoke, resting it back down onto the folded pillow that Jo was holding. Dean huffed out his breath tightly as Sam positioned his hand for suturing, the pain scalding up his arm and increasing his tremors significantly.

"You have got to be kidding me, Sammy?"

Dean's voice regained its strength slightly, and even found some humour. His eyes flicked to Jo.

"She's little... but she is so not d...delicate when it comes to suturing. You remember when I took that bullet in my shoulder, Sam? Well she..."

"Hey!"

Jo's playfully irritated voice cut into Dean's slightly breathless reminiscences, stopping him in mid flow.

"Hey. In the room here boys."

Jo's offended face softened as she saw Sam's relief; Dean's joking with his brother at her expense telling him that they were ok and that Dean did not hold Sam's anger against him.

"Sorry, Jo."

Dean's apology was warmed with a smile and she screwed her face up at him in mock annoyance as Sam threaded the needle and hovered ominously towards Dean's bleeding hand.

wWw

Uriel heard Michael's words despite the pounding of his panicked heart, which reverberated so loudly in his head that it threatened to drown out anything else. The request was so unexpected and it focussed him suddenly back into the room with its simplicity.

"Help you with what, Michael?"

His voice was disbelieving of his own ability and of his brother's confidence in him, and sounded weak and sorrowful to Michael's ears.

"Why with Dean Winchester, Uriel!"

Michael smiled as he watched his brother's interest spark and then confusion sweep over his pale face.

Uriel thought back to the enigmatic stranger he had met for the first time only a few short days ago, and to the dire circumstances of their meeting. Dean had been near to death, tortured and broken by the vicious daemon that had taken Michael, yet Uriel had sensed within him a tremendous untapped and unrecognised power. He had asked for Dean's final strength, for the boy's unreserved trust and had received it unquestioningly with the only reciprocating request being that Dean would be assured of Sam's safety.

It was a selfless act requiring absolute courage and had resulted in the daemon's banishment and Michael's joyous return and for that Uriel was eternally grateful. For Dean it had carried him to the brink of death and it had only been the combined power of the angels that had pulled him back from the abyss. It had left him terribly injured and Raphael had been able only to mend the very worst of his physical wounds before they'd had had to depart. So did Michael want Uriel to heal Dean?

"Michael, I think he needs Raphe not me. I don't heal, that's not my skill at all. You know that."

Michael smiled quietly, relieved at his brother's apparent interest in his request.

"I know, Uri, and if it were just Dean's physical healing that needed attention I would have asked Raphael to help but this is more about helping Dean to understand and find acceptance for what he is."

Uri frowned, intrigued by Michael's explanation but puzzled by its obtuse nature.

"And what is he exactly, Michael?"

Michael opened his mouth to answer and then paused realising he didn't know how to respond. Uri was taken aback and almost laughed.

"He's not an angel is he?"

At that Michael did laugh a warm, throaty noise that Uri revelled in.

"True, Uri. It's fair to say that by no definition of the word is Dean Winchester an angel!"

"Yet he is powerful."

It was more a statement than a question; both men having seen the boy's power manifest. They sat in silent contemplation for a second or two.

"Does he know what he is capable of?"

Uriel looked at his brother, his voice questioning.

"No, he is unaware and I suspect reluctant to acknowledge any of his possible destinies."

Uriel nodded, his curiosity peaked and his distress somewhat diminished. Michael continued.

"He needs to first accept that he is more than he pretends to be. It will be hard for him; he has spent a lifetime thinking he is secondary. To find that may not be so will be unprecedented for him."

Uriel nodded as Michael spoke; utterly drawn into their now shared dilemma, his reputation as The Keeper of Mysteries stimulated by the enigma that was Dean Winchester. Michael smiled to himself in relief.

"But, Michael, would this puzzle not be better suited to Sarakiel or Raziel? Knowledge and the seeking of answers, not to mention tolerance, is their forte not mine?"

"If this were just a puzzle to solve Uri I would agree with you, but this is a man, a man who would have given himself and all he held dear at a single word from us. We owe him our allegiance when he needs it, even though he may not want it."

"But I still don't understand what I can do, Michael?"

"You can help him explore what he is Uriel. Help him find his truths, his strengths; and teach him how to forgive himself for his failings."

Uri's head came up sharply at Michael's last sentence, his own pain, shame, guilt evident again in his pale eyes

"And I'm supposed to do all this how exactly?"

Michael smiled; relief flooding though him knowing that Uriel would go with his plans. Oh he would grumble and plead no doubt! But he would acquiesce.

"Well you need somewhere to be while we go check out the Gate. I need to know that you are safe ..."

"You're sending me to babysit them?"

Uriel's voice went up at least an octave as he realised that Michael intended to leave him with the Winchesters.

"Well it's a moot point who will be babysitting who, Uri."

Michael's face cracked into a smile and he clapped his hand on his brother's shoulder as Uri scowled at his brother, The Prince of Angels.

wWw

Sam leaned his head down towards the already damp sleeve of his T-shirt and attempted to mop away the sweat that was stinging his eyes. He was tired; his focus was becoming blurred which would not do because he still had a few stitches to complete and he didn't want to mess them up. He shook his shaggy head and looked up to Jo where she sat with her back against the headboard of Dean's bed.

She had moved there when Sam had started to re-suture Dean's shoulder and they had found that, though he tried, Dean could not lie still enough to allow Sam to drag the torn and ragged wound edges together. So Jo had moved to sit behind him; wrapping her arms around his body and holding his left arm tightly into his chest thus lessening the shaking that threatened Sam's aim.

It seemed a cruel strategy as it effectively pinned Dean down, forcing him to submit to the prolonged and exquisite agony of the long procedure but Dean had not complained once.

Now he lay slumped against Jo's chest; his head nestled back into her right shoulder and his eyes closed as he hummed softly under his breath.

Jo looked into Sam's eyes as he silently asked her how Dean was doing. She looked down at the barely conscious man in her arms and shrugged her shoulders at Sam her face betraying her concern.

"You okay, Dean?"

Sam's voice was soft and didn't penetrate Dean's tenuous consciousness. Sam paused and raised his hand, gently lifting Dean's chin so he could see his brother's eyes.

Dean stopped humming when he felt a rough hand on his cheek. He pulled his eyes open and found Sam's face in his eye line.

"How...we...doing...Sam? Nearly finished?"

His voice was slurred and Sam could see that Dean was near the end of his tolerance.

"About three more to do, Bro. Can you hold on?"

"Hell...yeah."

Dean smiled, and the lopsided gesture made him look drunk. Jo smiled back at him, touched by how young he looked and shocked by how vulnerable. She raised the damp towel in her left hand and again wiped the sweat from his face, taking care to avoid the wound on his cheek and noticing the freckles that clustered on the bridge of his nose.

"Sam?"

Dean's voice whispered.

"Yeah, Dean?"

The injured man weakly raised his right arm and pointed vaguely in Sam's direction.

"Maybe if that Sam does one suture..."

The trembling hand moved to Sam's other side.

"And this one does another..."

Dean's hand poked softly into his brother's chest

"And you do the last one, you could finish quicker?"

Sam laughed, his throat working to swallow down the lump he found there.

"Five minutes, OK Dean? Then you can sleep. Alright?"

Dean's eyes were closed again and Sam took up the suture needle and pressed it slowly through the ragged wound edge. He could feel Dean flinch beneath his steady hand. He pulled the waxy thread through his brother's inflamed flesh, watching the suture drag the tender skin edges into apposition. Dean groaned, his head falling forward to his chest.

"Sam?"

His voice was getting fainter, Sam carried on with his task, desperate to finish and stop the necessary torture that he was carefully inflicting on his suffering brother.

"Yeah, Dean?"

Dean opened his eyes, and they were lakes of purest green radiating pain.

"Don't have to ...go to Bobby's do we?"

Sam looked at Jo, desperation on his tired face. The tiny blond hunter shook her head and Sam replied softly.

"No, Dean, not if you don't want to."

wWw

Sam opened his eyes and smiled at Jo as she held the mug of steaming coffee under his nose. He took the mug gratefully as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat upright. His eyes went straight to his brother's sleeping form in the other bed.

"How is he?"

Jo smiled, sitting down next to him.

"He's fine, Sam, he hasn't stirred and his breathing is good."

She watched Sam visibly relax and she smiled again sharing his relief.

"You look better for a few hours sleep."

Sam nodded, gulping the hot coffee as he yawned.

"Umm, thanks, Jo, I couldn't have slept without knowing someone was watching him."

Jo opened her mouth to respond but it was lost in Dean's desperate cry.

"Sam!"

Dean struggled to push himself upright from the stack of pillows at his back and shoulder, panic making him careless of the pain the motion engendered. His face was pale but his eyes were alive with urgency and panic.

"Sam! Sammy. Oh God they're coming, please we gotta get away."

Sam placed a gentle but strong hand in the centre of Dean's chest and using minimal force pushed his struggling brother back against the bed. Dean curled his hand around Sams hanging on desperately.

"What is it, Dean? Nightmare? Who's coming?"

Dean shook his head coughing and trying to control his panting. He couldn't find breath to speak and so Sam waited, his hand not leaving Dean's body and his brown eyes fixed on his brother's panic stricken face.

"Breathe, Dean, steady. You gotta calm down."

Finally Dean managed to control his breathing, and he looked directly into Sam's eyes.

"Wanna go, Sam. Now. Please!"

Sam could still hear the edge of panic in his brother's voice but he didn't understand what was fuelling it or why. He glanced to Jo but she returned his look with a puzzled shake of her head.

"Okay Dean, no problem, but go where?"

Dean looked quizzically at Sam, like it was obvious.

"Bobby's!"

Sam nodded, mystified but not displeased at Dean's sudden change of heart.

"I thought you didn't want to go?"

Dean looked away from Sam briefly, his eyes evasive and hinting at his own inner confusion.

"Yeah well...now I do. Please, Sam. Can we go?"

Dean couldn't keep the desperation from his voice and Sam hated to see his brother so distressed.

"Okay, Dean, Okay. Calm down. We'll go"

Dean sighed nodding as his body shook and his breath hiccupped in and out.

"Now, Sam, can we go now?"

Dean's sweating hand gripped Sam's urgently.

"Sure, Dean, most of the stuffs in the car already. We just need to clear this room and get you sorted. Okay?"

Dean smiled like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and made to try and sit up. Sam held him with his restraining hand.

"What're you doing?"

"Gotta get dressed, Sam."

Sam laughed a little then in surprise, but stopped when he saw Dean's face darken.

"Sorry, bro, it's just you haven't even sat up by yourself in days and suddenly you're gonna dress yourself – just like that?"

Anger flashed across Dean's face. He hated being helpless and hated even more having it pointed out to him.

"Well if ya get your huge paw of me, Sam, maybe that'd help."

Sam raised his hands, slight annoyance at Dean's stubbornness evident in his furrowed brow.

"Go on then, Dean. You get yourself dressed then and Jo and I'll pack the stuff."

Jo rose to stand, her eyes on Sam, astounded at his apparent anger in the face of Dean's obvious distress.

"Sam!"

Sam shrugged; turning his back on Dean, his annoyance giving his voice a slight callousness.

"Help me get the stuff together will you, Jo? Dean can apparently manage by himself."

Jo stared at Sam, disbelief on her face that these two men could go from absolute concern for each other to anger and stupidity in seconds. She turned back to Dean and was surprised to find that he had managed to get to the edge of the bed and had his feet on the floor. His face however gave away the huge effort that it had cost him.

She moved swiftly and sat on the bed opposite him so she was at his eye level. She placed a soft hand on his leg and he looked up into her eyes. Pain and determination were etched on his face in equal measures; sweat running from his hair down his face to gather in the notch of his throat.

"Let me help you?"

"I can do it, Jo."

His face was all stubborn determination, his deep green eyes flashing with anger and Jo was surprised to find herself suddenly thinking about how it would feel to kiss his sulkily pouting lips. She started and shook herself from the distracting line of thought, noticing that her embarrassment was not missed by Dean.

"I know you can, but it sounded like you wanna go as soon as possible and it'll be so much quicker if I help you, Dean."

He looked hesitantly into her eyes, a surprisingly shy smile on his pale face and she felt herself blushing.

"OK, Jo, you can dress me."

She blushed further as he grinned disarmingly.

"Stay there then. I'll get your clothes alright?"

She squeezed his leg through the thin sheet covering him and he smiled wider as she rose and moved to the duffle bags in the corner, pushing Sam roughly out of her way as she moved.

The smile lingered on Dean's face until he felt again the disorienting terror that had woken him from sleep minutes earlier. They were coming. He could 'feel' their growing proximity and it terrified him. He tried to steady his breathing as his heart raced in his chest, there was time they were a distance away yet.

Jo rooted through the scant wardrobe that served both Winchesters needs, searching for garments that would be easy to get onto Dean's injured body, she pulling items out of their bags as Sam tried to stuff them in.

She slapped Sam's hands away as she spotted a hoody that zipped all the way down the front, recognising that it would be easier to get Dean into as he would not have to raise his torn shoulder.

"That's mine!"

Sam regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth as Jo fixed him with a look that could kill. She hissed quietly at him so that Dean could not hear her anger.

"How can you be like this? He's hurting and you know how he hates for us to see that and yet you throw it in his face? You're being cruel, Sam, and I expect better of you."

Sam cringed at the tiny hunter's words, knowing she was right. He met her fiery eyes and Jo saw contrition and guilt on his dark gaze.

"I'm sorry it's just ...he's so stubborn sometimes..."

"Oh, and you're not I suppose?"

Sam grimaced, accepting the truth in Jo's statement and feeling even worse about his actions.

"And I don't understand the sudden urgency to leave, he was adamant he..."

"Does it matter why? If it's any consolation I'm not sure if he knows either but he sure wants to and that's all that matters."

Sam hung his head, unable to face Jo's righteous indignation.

"I'm sorry, Jo."

"It's not me you need to apologise to, Sam, its Dean."

The words were barely out of her mouth as they heard Dean's exclamation of pain.

It had taken all of Dean's remaining strength to get himself from the bed and upright on his feet and having got there he now knew that it had been a very very bad idea indeed. The change of elevation, after days lying in bed, sent his blood pressure suddenly plummeting and the room swirled nauseatingly before his rapidly tunnelling vision.

Added to that every cut, scrape, broken bone and suture line simultaneously woke its respective neurones and sent multiple and cruelly inventive pain messages colliding into his brain. It was a particularly unhappy combination and Dean regretted his actions as his legs began to give way beneath him.

"Whoa there, Dean."

Sam's strong arms caught Dean before he hit the ground and hugged him gently to his chest, as he groaned tightly. Sam could feel his laboured breathing, driven partially by pain but also by his irrational urgency to leave the motel and get to Bobby's.

"Hurry, Sammy."

Dean's words whispered into Sam's shoulder and Sam nodded his chin against Dean's spiky hair as he held him upright.

"Okay, Bro, we're nearly ready. Just gonna get you dressed, then we can go."

As he spoke Sam looked to Jo and watched as she grabbed a pair of sweat pants from the bed and hurried to Sam's side. Getting Dean into his pants required all three of them to coordinate their actions and in other circumstances would have been funny but Dean's frequent gasps of pain robbed the situation of any humour and left them all tense and sweating.

And by the time Sam lowered Dean back down to sit on the bed Jo was beginning to wonder if Dean really could manage the journey.

Dean was in agony and wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. No screw that. He wanted drugs, great big stupefying pain meds that knocked him sideways and meant he would sleep for days.

However, the gnawing but confusing fear he felt knowing that They were almost at the motel prevented him from asking for any of that, and he looked up at Jo as she hovered with hoody working out how best to get his battered body into the sleeves, imploring her to hurry.

Jo watched Dean carefully as he swayed, Sam's steadying hand on his shoulder the only reason he didn't topple sideways to the bed. She pushed her hand up the sleeve of the hoody, and taking hold of Dean's right hand in hers slid the sleeve up his arm to his shoulder. She hung onto his arm, her nod telling Sam he could let go, as she slipped onto the bed next to him carefully wrapping the soft fabric over his shattered shoulder.

Dean started as she draped the hoody around him and made to move his arm toward the sleeve.

"No."

Jo placed her hand on his left forearm, holding it carefully into his ribs. His unfocussed eyes searched for hers.

"We'll just zip it round ya Dean, it'll help hold your shoulder steady. Okay?"

Dean nodded blearily as she fastened the zip, cocooning his injured arm.

Jo's brow wrinkled into a frown as she watched the hunter's lips move in a repetitive chant.

"Gotta go...they're coming...Wanna go..."

She put her hand to Dean's cheek and his eyes fluttered open.

"Who's coming, Dean? Who are you afraid of?"

Dean chided himself. He hadn't realised he had been speaking out loud. He smiled a deflective smile for Jo.

"No one, Jo. Was just humming."

She looked suspiciously at him; knowing he was being evasive but then Sam came back into the room having stowed the last of their gear in the Impala. He crossed the room and crouched before Dean where he sat.

"Ready to go?"

Worried hazel eyes swept over Dean's swaying form; as the injured man nodded, relief written all over his pale face.

"Can't get up, Sammy."

Dean's voice was a whisper and Sam's heart shuddered.

"No problem, Bro, I got ya."

Sam rose; and leaning into Dean cradled his arm around his waist, grabbing his belt loop. Sam leaned back and slowly straightened his long legs easing Dean upright.

Dean tried to relax knowing that this was gonna hurt, but desperate to be away before they found him, knowing that their presence would force him to confront things he wished only to forget and wall away.

Sam waited, his brother's agonised gasps of pain lancing through him as he struggled to find his feet.

"Dean, you sure you..."

"P...Please...S...Sam. Let's just go."

Sam shuddered at Dean's plea, not pretending to understand it but spurred by the unchecked desperation in the words. He tightened his grip as carefully as he could and they moved towards the car.

wWw

The Dodge Nitro SUV pulled to a stop next to the Impala just as Sam and Jo had manhandled Dean out of the motel room door and they watched with interest as all four doors of the powerful vehicle opened simultaneously to disgorge the 4 Angels of the Heavenly Host.

Sam and Jo smiled as Raphe, supporting a grumbling Uriel, walked toward then from the nearside of the SUV; to be joined quickly by a smiling Raguel.

Dean could not breathe; his panic suddenly and inexplicably mushrooming to suffocating proportions. He struggled to raise his head as he hung in Sam's strong embrace, his legs refusing to support him, and his eyes fell upon the angels. His eyes widened, the urge to flee impossible to resist.

"Go, Sam. Please!"

Sam heard the shaky words as he felt Dean's hand pushing against his own hip, and he realised that Dean was trying to stand under his own power, without Sam's essential support.

"Whoa, Dean. Don't. You'll fall."

Sam tightened his grip and felt Dean's elbow in his ribs as his brother found strength from somewhere to resist Sam's hold on him.

Raphael felt the waves of panic emanate from the trio before him, as did his companions, and he was perplexed as to its cause. He watched as an obviously weak Dean wriggled from Sam's grip to stand swaying precariously, staring in horror in the direction of he and his brothers.

"Dean?"

Raphe's puzzled voice filled the space between the two parties as Michael appeared from the off side of the SUV to stand with his brothers, his gentle face full of concern.

Dean watched as the fourth figure joined the group before him; and he shook as the face of the daemon stared back at him. He felt the world begin to spin and he saw again its obsidian eyes revelling in his anguish and pain. He squeezed his eyes desperate to block out the memories of his imprisonment and torture, feeling blackness encroaching. His head spun, his ears buzzing and as unconsciousness claimed him, he heard the daemons seductive voice whisper in his head.

"I am waiting, Dean. You will be mine."

Chapter ends

**If you have time, I'd love to know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So Not An Angel!**

Chapter Three Rutting Stags

Raguel moved swiftly across the short distance from the SUV in response to Sam's cry of distress; as Dean's long legs folded beneath him and he toppled forward, whilst Sam grabbed wildly at the back of his shirt trying to break his fall. The powerfully built angel caught the older hunter effortlessly in his strong arms; preventing his total collapse and letting Dean's head roll softly against his shoulder, as Sam leapt to his brother's side.

"Dean!"

Soft green eyes fluttered open as Sam gently steadied his brother's drooping head; but there was no focus to the older man's gaze, and a whispered moan was his only answer.

Raphael beckoned to Jo; keen to get to the stricken man, but unwilling to abandon Uri. She hastened to the tall angel's side and Uriel transferred his weight from Raphe's arm to Jo's, leaving the healer free to go to Dean's side.

"Let's get him back inside, Sam"

Raguel spoke quickly glancing at his brother for confirmation, and Raphe nodded. Between them Sam and Raguel carefully lifted the injured man; Sam cringing as Dean gasped repeatedly in pain, and carried him back into the familiar motel room laying him on the bed he had so recently vacated.

Michael followed his brother's into the room, sorrowful in the awareness that his countenance was, at least in some part, responsible for Dean's acute distress.

wWw

Raguel stood back from the side of the bed and made way for Raphe; Sam hovering anxiously at the other side, as Raphael began his gentle examination.

Jo settled Uriel on one of the chairs by the table taking the seat opposite him her deep brown eyes focussed on the figure in the bed, her concern apparent.

Uriel reached forward; his hand gently wrapping around the tiny hunter's cold fingers, as she glanced into his pale eyes. He held her hand purposefully and she made no effort to withdraw it.

"So, Sam, it would seem that Dean's been struggling since we left you?"

Raphe glanced at the younger hunter as his practised hands hovered over Dean's various wounds.

"He's been in a lot of pain, Raphe..."

Sam paused; conscious of all the people in the small room and of how pissed Dean would be at becoming the unconscious centre of attention.

Raphe noted Sam's discomfort; and knowing a little about the Winchester's life and specifically Dean's character, understood Sam's reluctance to disclose too much.

He lowered his voice, discretely limiting his next question primarily to Sam's ears.

"I can help with his pain, to a degree anyway, in the time we have to spend here."

Perceptive grey eyes held Sam's gaze, compassion overtly evident in the angel's thin face and Sam relaxed a little knowing that Raphe would ease Dean's suffering.

"But there's something else?"

Raphael saw the worry and fear in the young hunter's tiredness and pallor; and he easily diagnosed the cause.

"Nightmares?"

Sam nodded biting his lip the memory of Dean's abject terror robbing him of his voice to answer.

wWw

Raphael's gentle hands reached Dean's shoulder as they spoke; and the older hunter stirred as the angel's long fingers hovered over his shattered joint, threatening to tease already over stimulated neurones with renewed sound bites of pain.

Dean's consciousness returned slowly, reluctantly swimming up through suffocating layers of confusion and fear. His head felt scrambled; full of sensations he didn't recognise, and most certainly didn't want.

It was disorientating, and the older hunter felt his recent, too frequently present sense of panic return with a vengeance.

He could 'feel' the presence of the angels in the cloyingly small room, feel waves of power emanate from their collective presence, but was also bemused to find that he could begin to distinguish between them sensing where each of them was in the room, even with his eyes resolutely closed.

He knew without doubt, for example, that Raphe was close to him; but he was not disturbed by that as the angel's cool and tranquil energy felt soothing to Dean's fevered mind and broken body.

Dean worked on opening his eyes; needing to rely on his regular senses, rather than acknowledging in any way the newer sensations, shuddering through his bruised and battered psyche.

Lifting the hundred pound weight of each eyelid was an immense challenge, but he persevered, only to have the world spin nauseatingly before him as he achieved his aim. And so Dean reached out for the only true stability he knew.

"S...Sam?"

Sam put his hand on his brother's arm; feeling the tremble there, and knowing that Dean was fighting desperately to hide that perceived weakness from him.

"Right here, Bro"

"Wanna...sit up"

Sam cast his worried gaze quickly to Raphe; to see the angel nod as he helped Sam gently raise Dean and lean him back against the pillows.

Dean squirmed under the collective gaze of the 6 other occupants of the small room; his wide fearful eyes locked onto his brother's, silently seeking solace and protection in their hazel depths.

His reluctance to make eye contact with the others tangible and Sam tightened his grip on his brother's arm, desperate to ease his unvoiced terror.

"What is it, Dean?"

Sam's words were soft as he attempted to stay calm but Dean's distress was oozing into him and he could feel his heart racing almost as quickly as his brother's.

Raphael watched the exchange between the hunter brothers before him; and suspected he knew the cause.

Reluctantly, he looked towards Michael; and saw matched understanding on the face of the elder angel, as he rose and walked nearer to the bed and its trembling occupant.

666

Sam saw Michael rise from the table and walk the few steps towards the bed out of the corner of his eye; but had he not been able to see, he would still have been able to measure the event in the effect it had on his brother.

Dean's body tensed as adrenaline coursed through him; contracting obviously sore, reluctant muscles, and painfully jarring barely healed wounds.

The older man recognised and loathed the manifestation of panic in himself but he could not control it; and he was helpless as his breathing rate increased and sweat stuck his T-shirt to his back, his brain shrieking at him to 'fight or flee' but his body was unwilling to comply.

He longed to close his eyes; to simply shut out the terror that made his breath hike noisily in his chest, but he couldn't and so reluctantly shifted his gaze to settle fearfully on the angel at the foot of the bed.

Sam watched his brother's eyes widen as they fell on Michael's face, colour leaching from them, until pale jade was virtually lost to shining white.

He saw Dean engage all his defensive shields; desperate to hide his vulnerability and panic from the others in the room, especially Michael, and to deny it even to himself.

Dean's struggle tore at Sam's heart and he ached for a way to help but was impotent in his powerlessness to comfort.

Dean gazed upon the face of the Prince of Angels. He took in the strong aquiline nose; intelligent, intuitive eyes and strong jaw, and every fibre of his being recoiled in horror, as the divine being before him metamorphosed into the daemon that had brutalised him to the point of death.

He unconsciously pressed back against the pillows; seeking the reassurance of physical distance from the being who was the manifestation of the daemon, his hands bunching into bed sheets that were patterned with his own blood.

"Dean, I..."

Michael's voice was soft and made every attempt to reassure and calm the agitated hunter but to no avail.

Dean could not see past the vivid image of Mikey's lustful pleasure as he slowly pierced the flesh of his hand with the exquisitely sharp dagger, or feel anything but the pain of his shattered shoulder grinding beneath the daemon's agonising grasp.

"S...stay...away from...me!"

Dean's voice was uncontrolled, his panic evident in his breathlessness, as his wide eyes sought for an escape.

Blood pounded in his ears; making him dizzy and lightheaded' making it harder and harder to distinguish reality from nightmare. He stared into Michael's violet eyes; and watched them widen until their colour was lost to obsidian, and the voice in his head – Mikey's voice, whispered to him.

"I will come back for you, Dean. You will be mine!"

wWw

Raphe rose from his place on the bed beside Dean and turned to the other occupants of the room, his soft yet authoritative voice breaking the silence that was only heightened by Dean's ragged breathing.

"I need the room please"

He looked to Raguel; expecting and receiving his brothers understanding, as the powerful angel shepherded Uri and Jo from the table and towards the door.

"We'll be in Jo's room when you are finished, Raphe."

Raguel placed his hand firmly on Michael's shoulder as he drew level with him; and urged him through the door with his other charges, as Raphael nodded his thanks.

"You too, Sam."

Sam's shocked eyes turned quickly to the healer; his hold on Dean's arm tightening in possessive concern.

"No, I'm not leaving him in this state."

Sam's jaw was set for a fight; the cadence of Dean's panicky breathing beating out the rhythm of Sam's protectiveness.

The angel saw and understood the hunter's reluctance to leave his brother but knew he needed to engineer space and safety for Dean to be able to talk through his fears, and he knew absolutely that the older man would never do that in front of Sam.

He braced himself reluctantly to compel Sam to leave; but was halted as Dean's breathy voice whispered into the room.

"S...okay...S...Sam!"

Dean's smile was weak; his face pale and drained, but Sam was surprised to see determination in his countenance.

"You sure?"

Dean nodded; forcing his body to relax so his breathing would calm allowing him to speak without hiccupping.

"Yeah, Sam. I'm sure. Give me a little time with Raphe."

Sam released his brother's arm and moved reluctantly to the door, Raphe following him.

Sam paused at the threshold of the shabby room, turning to face the tall angel.

"Call if he needs me?"

"Of course, Sam."

Raphe placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder; and Sam fought the urge to shake it off, an irrational jealousy that Dean needed the angel, and not himself, burning in his gut.

Sam's last impression of his brother; as the angel softly closed the door, was of Dean's defencelessness, and barely contained panic and pain.

wWw

Sam found himself seated at the table in Jo's room; a mug of coffee in his hand, without being aware of the steps he had reluctantly taken to walk there.

He looked up and found Jo's soft brown eyes staring into his; concern written across her pretty face.

He smiled to reassure her and himself, his ears tuning in finally to the conversation in the room.

"It's understandable, Michael."

Raguel was speaking.

"It's hard for him to recognise you as Michael when all he remembers is days of your possessed form torturing him."

Michael nodded; and placed his hand over Raguel's as it rested on the table, grateful to his brother for the reassurance.

"I know, Raguel, it must be terrifying for Dean to essentially see his tormentor return; but..."

Uriel cut into the conversation; his irritation apparent and undisguised.

"Jeez, Michael! He's gonna have to realise that wasn't you! I won't have him..."

Uriel's devotion to his brother spilled out as anger; and though Sam understood where he was coming from, the angel's implied criticism of Dean burned in his chest.

"Won't have him what, Uriel?"

Sam was on his feet in an instant; his coffee tipped over to drip from the shabby table, as his long legs quickly covered the few steps to the bed Uri sat on. The white blond haired angel met the tall hunter head on; both of them spoiling for a fight, both unwilling to have their brother disrespected in any way.

"It's not Michael's fault; he was possessed for Christ's sake."

"And I suppose you think Dean should shake you all by the fucking hand do ya and say thanks for the experience?"

The veins stood out in Sam's temple as he spoke; and he stared down at the smaller man with undisguised contempt and rage.

"Oh, no wait. Now that'd be difficult with his hand hacked to pieces by your beloved Michael's knife frenzy, wouldn't it? Or shall we talk about his ruined shoulder, or busted ribs, or smashed cheekbone? Let me see, oh yeah, they were all courtesy of your divine brother too as I remember!"

Raguel stepped forcefully between Uriel and Sam; and placed a firm restraining hand on each of the rutting stags, forcefully pushing them apart.

"Down, boys!"

His voice was low and controlled; but held an unmistakable edge of implied menace, and both men absorbed his threat backing off to their former seats eyeing each other warily.

Michael's resonant voice cut the belligerent atmosphere in the room with its hurt but dignified serenity. His etheric eyes commanded both sulking angel and simmering hunter; leaching their anger for each other, and stilling the swirling antipathy to shared embarrassment.

"Sam, I am truly sorry for Dean's ordeal; and my part in it but I cannot undo what has been done."

Sam felt his cheeks burning with dissipating rage and newly dawning shame as he looked into Michael's face and saw the truth of the angel's words. He looked towards Uriel's pale face, and saw matched high spots of colour blossoming there.

"I'm sorry, Michael. It's just that Dean's been through such a lot, and he thinks it's left him different somehow, and although I've tried to tell him that it's just because he was hurt so badly and that he's just as he always has been..."

Sam stopped abruptly; his eyes intent on Michael's face and the reaction therein to his statement.

"He is..."

The words muddled in Sam's head.

"He isn't...changed? Is he, Michael?"

Sam sat down; his legs suddenly new born foal-like beneath his tall frame.

Michael took in the hunter's wide eyes; and sought in his heart for his next vitally important words.

"Sam. Dean is right. His time with the daemon, the painful choices he had to make and his instrumental part in the binding ritual, have inevitably changed him."

Sam swallowed, seeking his voice but his throat was suddenly too dry for words. He accepted the glass of water that Jo thrust into his hand gratefully, raising it shakily to his lips, and swallowing the contents as his mind reverberated in turmoil.

"Changed him how?"

Sam whispered; his large hands wrapping around the cool glass; feeling the droplets of condensation on its outer surface, tickle his palm.

Michael sighed; his eyes seeking Raguel's before he continued.

"That's difficult to say, Sam."

"What do you mean, difficult to say? You mean you don't know or you won't tell me?"

Sam's rage threatened to emerge again and he found himself rising to his feet; his urge to protect Dean churning his gut.

Raguel placed his hand carefully on the furious man's shoulder; his movements deliberately slow and measured, gently forcing Sam to reclaim his seat.

"It's not that I won't tell you, Sam, it's more, as you have guessed that I..."

Michael paused, his hand indicating his brother angels.

"That we, don't really know what this all means for Dean. It's rare, inconceivably rare, that we meet someone like him, and we simply don't know how his gift will manifest."

"Gift?"

Sam felt partially detached from the conversation going on before him; he had an overwhelming urge to run from the room, grab Dean, and make a break for the Impala and sanity. However, that was tempered by his theorist's desire to know all that Michael and the other angels could tell him; anything that might help him to help Dean.

"Yes, Sam, Dean is one of the Gifted."

Jo leaned forward; her hand fluttering to rest on Michael's, drawing his attention momentarily to her honey brown eyes.

"One of the Gifted? Do you mean he's like you all? He's an..?"

She hesitated unable to say the word.

"An angel, Jo?"

Michael smiled despite himself.

"No, Jo! Dean's not an angel...in fact I would go as far as to say 'So Not An Angel'!"

Chapter ends


	4. Chapter 4

**So Not An Angel!**

Chapter 4 Healing?

Raphael closed the door to the motel room; and looked back at the fragile figure that was lying on the bed watching him intently with a look of contrived calm, and braced himself for the challenge to come.

Dean Winchester was a complicated man. No strike that, Dean Winchester was a fascinating conundrum wrapped in ornate layers of brittle damage, fear and pain; and Raphe was gonna have to be in top form to begin to work through all that.

So, where to start? A quick win was needed and if nothing else it was easily apparent that Dean was in bucket loads of physical pain; an area that Raphe specialised in, so healing seemed a good place to start!

Praise the Lord for small mercies!

The lanky angel moved fluidly back to the bed; and seated himself on the grubby, bloodstained sheets to Dean's left side, in watchful, silent contemplation.

Dean shifted uncomfortably under Raphael's relentless gaze; the movement jarring his aching ribs, though he tried to minimise the accompanying soft gasp of pain.

The silence between angel and hunter was deafening. Dean knew that Raphe was deliberately challenging him with it and whilst he normally loved a challenge, in this state, his resolve was approaching exhaustion after about 30 seconds.

Dean-snark emerged, in an attempt to head off angelic intervention at the pass.

"So, Raphael, wanna play a few hands of stud? I'd say we'd play pool but Sammy went cheap on me and booked the 'no pool table' suite."

The angel's grey eyes smiled; infecting the intelligent face and despite himself, Dean felt his mouth quirk in response. Raphe was reminded how much he liked this man, and was drawn all over again to helping him, if Dean would only damn well let him.

"Sure, Dean, I'm happy to take your money, but how about I try and ease your pain first?"

The angel looked Dean straight in the eye as he spoke; watching the complex play of emotion cross the young hunter's still bruised face, as he contemplated the offer of help.

Raphe saw the tempting lure of relief battle with long held scepticism and disbelief, and he hastily recalculated the difficulty quotient he was facing if he was going to get through the hunter's defences. Stealth and patience would be needed if he was going to deal with Dean's deliberate and pissy avoidance strategies.

Raphe smiled wider then, his love of a challenge putting fire in his belly. He had, on so many occasions, dealt with and survived Uriel at his childish best; he was sure he could handle this boy too. Well, probably. Like 90% certain anyway.

"I see some doubt in your eyes, Dean. So maybe we need to talk about it first?"

Ker-ching!

Dumb statement Raphe.

One point, or more like one thousand points, to the boy in the bed.

Like Dean Winchester was gonna relish discussing his lifetime of angst and wall building, with, of all things, a healer angel.

The young hunter sneered as he went to shrug his shoulders, the gesture designed to blow the angel's enquiry out the water; only to be thwarted as his injured arm cracked audibly as bone ends shifted on each other in the fragile socket. The movement left Dean hiccupping in refreshed pain and new found annoyance; as he cradled his injured arm into his body, his cleverly constructed air of nonchalant disregard shot to pieces.

Raphe saw his opening and anticipating no better one to come in the foreseeable future he leaned forward, carefully bracing for impact with the brooding hunter.

Dean saw Raphe's large hand moving towards him through vision tunnelled by bright flashes of pain; and his brain shrieked at him to move- to get away, associating angelic touch with the pain of Mikey's poetically demented torment and the draining finality of the binding ritual.

However Dean's injuries dulled his usually swift and graceful reflexes, and he felt the angel's cool hand press against his shoulder, well before he could move to dodge the touch.

"Don't!"

Dean could hear the edge of panic in his voice, and he hated it. He lifted his right hand and snapped it onto Raphe's wrist, desperate to halt the angel's intervention, but was thwarted because he lacked the strength to break the wiry angel's deceptively strong hold.

Raphael was saddened to see the fear his power brought to the hunter before him, but he was confident that if he could subjugate Dean just this once that the boy would see the wonder of the healing, and would submit gratefully henceforth.

And Raphe knew there would be many more times of need for healing for this man in his future, as he suspected injury and Dean Winchester were, and would remain, close bed fellows.

Thus, his empathic eyes conveyed his genuine apology to the struggling man, even as his strong hands resolutely held him firm, as he summoned his healing grace.

wWw

Dean could feel the power gathering in the angel.

It was beautiful, like the hum of the song of cicadas in the soft early light of a bayou dawn, and yet it terrified him. For within himself he felt a reciprocating vibration; it was hesitant and disharmonious and as yet held in its long guarded prison, but it was awake and whimpering for release.

Raphael bathed in the glory that was the grace of God; and in his mind's eye Dean's shoulder lay before him like a shattered work of art to be lovingly conserved and restored, using the ethereal harmonies that flowed through him. He flexed his mind, and the heat of restoration fled his finger tips destined for unwilling flesh.

Dean groaned as sudden heat ignited the nerves in his shoulder with wave upon wave of telegraphing sensation. He could feel Raphe's healing touch as he began to smooth ravaged bone and sundered flesh; knitting fibres back together and growing new ones where the damage was so extensive that repair was impossible.

And it hurt.

In fact it was agony.

It felt like the stabbing of the suturing needle; but magnified a hundred times and without anaesthetic, cruelly concentrated into the area of the angel's touch. Dean bit against the inside of his cheek trying to bear the brutal energy that flowed from Raphe's hand; tasting the warm salty flow of blood as his teeth tore his flesh, and all the time the symbiotic power within him shrieked its protest to be free.

Raphe became aware gradually that though his healing was working and Dean's horribly damaged shoulder was indeed become stronger and more functional under his ministrations. His patient's experience, however, was far from the relaxing and spiritually energising one he was used to. He paused in the transference of the Grace; and took in the state of the recipient before him, mystified and distressed at what he saw.

Dean's eyes were closed; squeezed shut against the oscillating, bone jarring pain; his brow furrowed and bottom lip caught in his teeth as he concentrated on holding in his screams, now desperate for the restoration wrought by the process but without the accompanying agony. His body too was rigid, every muscle group contracted in sympathetic spasm with the exquisitely tormented, reforming deltoids.

And through all that Dean could feel the tensing of the dormant force within him; feel it breaching the crumbling restraints he had built for it, to thrum like a throbbing bass rhythm through his body.

"Dean?"

He opened his eyes in response to the angel's entreaty; and shuddered as the relatively dim glow of the motel lights bruised his hypo-pigmented irises.

Raphe looked into eyes bleached of colour, now white with raw emerging power; and scrambled hastily to withdraw from his union with the holder of that immense if untutored power, fearful of the consequences of awakening it, yet knowing he was already too late.

The floodgates opened within Dean with explosive force; the Gift igniting his usual senses to infinitesimal acuity, and awakening new ones to vie for space in his throbbing head. His grasp on Raphe's wrist tightened as the influx of sensory detail assaulted and overwhelmed him, spinning the room dizzily on its axis.

The angel felt the surge of power that accompanied the awakening of Dean's Gift as an electric shock pulsing from the hunter's grasping hand; up through his arm, and into his brain. He saw the world momentarily in every colour of the spectrum; heard each man's every whisper as a reverberating roar, and inhaled life and death as one sensation. It was glorious and terrifying, and he prayed for its cessation, as he mourned it loss.

As the intensity of the event lessened, the angel felt the hunter's questing energy touch that part of his being from whence his healing flowed. He felt Dean seek carefully to understand, and then was amazed to feel the hunter's energy flow through his own being, seeking out any small hurt that lived within the angel.

Dean was trembling with sensory overload; his vision pulsed with colour and light, making his head spin. He closed his eyes and felt raw unnamed power ripple through him, seeking some productive outlet. He pushed towards the angel, and was rewarded with an instant understanding of the healing art that was Raphe's particular skill, into which he readily poured his naive and mammoth power.

Raphael sat locked in place as Dean regenerated the tiny ravages of time that were the angel's loyal and long serving friends. His grey eyes sparkled with delight as the hunter's tentatively searching energy took the template that Raphe had only moments earlier applied to the hunters shoulder, and recreated it in the angel's body. Raphe sighed; his ease wondrous and welcome.

wWw

_Mikey watched from the hated pit that was his exile; longing for a corporeal body to again inhabit, lusting for the freedom to feel, touch, defile and torment. He revelled in the power that thrummed unchecked through the hunter's trembling body; yearning to corrupt it for his own dark purposes and sinful desires. _

_He closed his eyes, not that he really had eyes to close, and remembered back to his first encounter with the hunter, days before in the snowy parking lot. He pictured his gloved hand resting against the boy's unconscious cheek and drank in the memory of the power he had felt then, mingling and blending it with this new undisciplined surge, and he smiled knowing that his assessment of the hunter's potential had been so true. _

_He laughed; though no real sound emerged, so he flexed his mind, waiting patiently for the time when he would awaken Dean's worst nightmares to reality once more._

_wWw_

Dean smiled as he healed and rejuvenated old and tired muscles, delighting in restoring and creating strength in the angel before him. The skills to heal were suddenly intrinsic to his very being; long term cherished companions that were eloquent in his manipulation of them. This was his Gift and it was glorious and heady; and thus was he utterly unprepared for the sudden backlash the glory vengefully bestowed upon him.

The pain invaded his head with such intensity that he was unable to check the tears that poured instantly from his shining white eyes, and he growled deep in his chest as he clamped his hands to his pounding temples, biting back bile as his stomach heaved. Zigzagging lines shimmered behind his tightly closed eye lids; pulsating in time with the throb of his head, as he found his gravelled voice.

"Raphe! Help me. Make it stop..."

The angel seized the hunter's shoulders; and he watched in terror as the resonant energy built intolerable peaks of pain in response to the freely, though perhaps hastily given healing.

"Withdraw, Dean, pull your energy back. You try to do too much, too soon."

The words reverberated around Dean's head; cannoning off twitching pain receptors like the flippers on a pin ball table, but the message got through and Dean's healing gift fled the angel like a shy virgin in a frat house dorm, leaving him bereft in his abandonment.

wWw

_Mikey closed his mind to the drab monotony of the pit and travelled the ether to spy on the corporeal world. He giggled as he infiltrated reality; voyeuristically observing the torment of struggling hunter and rescuing angel. _

_The daemon smiled as he fed on the white hot bolts of pain lancing through Dean's head; and he purred, his throaty rasp matched to the hunter's growl of distress, loving the agony that the unlocked Gift bestowed on his quarry, and relishing the connection that was deepening between them._

wWw

The pain in his head eased with a diffident lack of haste; leaving Dean wrung out and pale in the aftermath of the episode. And so he was surprised to find that whilst his skull was about to explode, his shoulder felt significantly better. He risked letting go of his throbbing temple with his left hand, and was amazed to find he could tentatively rotate the recently ruined joint with only a approximate 3 on the Wong/Baker scale of pain. Seeing as hours before he would have given his arm a 5/5, that was a significant, though very welcome, gain.

He looked through eyes barely open a crack at Raphe as he returned from the small bathroom; dampened washcloths in his hand, and submitted with minimal protest as the angel laid one at the back of his neck, and a second on his forehead. The cool cloth eased the pain in his head almost a whole one degree more and he notched his eyes open a little further in exhausted celebration.

"How do you feel?"

The angel kept his voice purposefully soft; but watched as Dean started in reaction to the discordant bells pealing noisily in the hunter's skull.

"Head hurts..."

Raphe smiled in amused sympathy.

"You don't say."

"Yeah, I do say."

Dean's voice found a jot of snark and the angel's anxiety for him dropped to DefCon 4.

"So, do you know what just happened?"

Dean closed his eyes, working on the assumption that if he couldn't see Raphe maybe the angel wouldn't see him and the question could be ducked. It was an avoidance strategy of sorts but not his most effective to date.

He felt the angel's hand on his arm; and reluctantly opened his eyes, squinting into the relatively low light of the room.

Raphe saw straight through the young hunter's tactics. OK, he recognised this one from his many tussles with Uriel. A change of tack was called for, go for a sneaky broadside rather than a full on assault.

"How's your arm feel?"

Dean grinned; and mumbled out a shy but pleased response.

"Fine."

"Can I see?"

Raphe extended his hands carefully towards Dean's shoulder, and the hunter began to nod, though the movement made his stomach heave and he quickly stopped.

The angel gently gripped Dean's wrist in his left hand and placed his right hand against the bandaged shoulder. He slowly extended the hunter's arm; moving the shoulder anteriorly, and was pleased to see he could get at nearly 50% of the movement he would expect in a healthy joint before the twitch and gasp from his patient stopped him from going further. Similarly, when he tried to rotate the ball and socket joint he found much more motion than he had dared hope to see just a few hours ago.

"But it hurt you when I healed it?"

"Hell, Yeah..."

Raphe stared into the returning green of Dean's eyes seeing the tiredness there, but needing to understand the events here before allowing his charge to sleep.

"I take it that it doesn't normally hurt when you heal someone?"

The angel smiled softly at the hunter's question; sadness in his face.

"No, not usually. Usually healing is uplifting, energising for the recipient."

Dean nodded; his face deeply contemplative.

Raphael continued his voice warm with gratitude and praise.

"Like it was for me just then, Dean, when you healed me."

Frightened emerald eyes shrank from steady grey; and Raphe braced for an anticipated denial that never came.

"Did you know what you were doing?"

The angel waited patiently; and in time the hunters gaze returned to his.

"No...Yes...oh hell, Raphe, I don't know!"

Raphe didn't push; realising that the hesitation was not attitude or evasiveness but confusion and uncertainty.

"It hurt, but I could 'feel' you mending my shoulder. Then, amongst the pain, there was something else."

Dean stopped; searching for the right words, looking nervously to Raphe for reassurance. The angel nodded; giving the hunter permission and confidence to continue.

"Something else?"

"Yeah. There was something inside me; bursting free. I don't know how to describe it?"

Another hesitant, almost embarrassed glance; another reassurance from the angel, and Dean relaxed fractionally again and continued once more.

"Like energy. Inside me somewhere, I guess."

Continued nods, more emphatic this time.

"And I needed somewhere for it to go. So I...'shaped' it...made it look like your healing looked to me. And then I pushed it out towards you."

Green eyes waited; locked onto grey, desperately seeking approval. Raphael wondered at the man before him. So powerful, and so unsure.

"And you healed me. Thank you, Dean."

A ghost of a smile then; enlivening the pale face.

"You're welcome."

Raphe paused; allowing Dean a moment of shy, bemused pleasure, observing the youth and innocence never normally allowed to surface, breathe in its achievement.

"But then?"

The pleasure fled; and the darkening eyes returned to uncertainty.

"Pain! In my head. Like my skull would explode."

The angel waited patiently for the gaze to return; infinitesimally patient, and it did.

"And now?"

"Gone now."

Raphael raised his brow in gentle challenge; and was rewarded with a quiet, almost apologetic, admission.

"OK, not gone but I don't feel as much like I'm gonna puke."

The angel winced in sympathy.

"But I'm so tired, Raphael."

Fluttering eyelashes added weight to the slightly slurred words, and Raphe reached the comforter from the other bed, knowing Dean was at the limit of his endurance.

"Sleep, Dean. We'll talk later."

As he spoke the angel drew the comforter over the suddenly very young man before him, as he curled onto his side yawning softly.

"You understand ...all this...don't ya, Raphe?"

Raphael managed to keep the worry in his heart from his voice, as he laid his hand on Dean's soft hair.

"I will, Dean, give me time. Now sleep!"

And the hunter slept.

Chapter ends.

11


	5. Chapter 5 Dean's Gift and Uriel's Curse

**So Not An Angel!**

Chapter 5 Dean's Gift and Uriel's Curse

Raphael tapped on Jo's motel room door; exhaustion and confusion dripping from his lean frame, like condensation on a cold beer glass. He stepped over the threshold as Raguel opened the door to him; his weak smile betraying his tiredness, sending a jolt of worry through his brother angel. Raguel had seen the draining effect that healing had occasionally had on Raphe in the past; but not to this degree, and not with the accompanying look of concern that his brother currently wore.

Sam rose to his feet as the angel entered; his face a study in mirrored concern, his voice deepened with emotion.

"Is Dean alright? I don't want him left on his own."

Sam moved for the door without really being aware of his actions, his anxiousness for Dean's safety giving him speed; and paused only when Raphe spoke his name, weary grey eyes seeking the younger hunter's troubled hazel gaze.

"Dean's sleeping, Sam, and he's fine. But he's worn out and needs to rest."

Sam hesitated his eyes moving between the angels and then to Jo before coming back to centre on Raphael. The young hunter's unease at being parted from his brother was palpable; his concern for his welfare apparent in his demeanour and Raphe was reminded of his admiration for the younger Winchester. Dean needed someone to care about him and Raphe was relieved that he had it in Sam.

Realising that Sam would hear nothing he had to say without knowing Dean was safe, the angel said,

"Why don't you check on him? Then after we can talk."

Sam nodded Raphe's words further churning his gut with anxiety, as he strode on long legs to his brother's side.

wWw

Raguel pulled out a chair at the small table and steered Raphe by his drooping shoulders to the seat, whilst Michael poured coffee into the last remaining mug and placed it down before Raphe.

The coffee smelled rich and its bitter smokiness revived Raphe slightly as he swallowed a scalding mouthful. He lowered the mug, and smiled in weary amusement as he found himself the centre of attention. He knew his colleagues were anticipating an explanation of his time with Dean, but where to start?

Silence marked the passage of a few long seconds; Uriel's irreverent voice finally cutting through the deafening hush.

"So Raphe, why the long face? You gonna tell us what the fuck happened in there or do we have to wait for the movie?"

"Uri!"

Michael's disapproving voice silenced the younger angel immediately; though it did not stop him looking across at Jo, a playful grin on his handsome face.

"We will wait for Sam to come back before Raphe fills us in."

Uri rolled his eyes and flung himself back on the bed, huffing his breath out through his mouth in a bored fashion. Raguel tried to hide his smile behind his hand as Michael continued to stare in affronted piety at the impatient blond angel. Raguel chanced a glance at Raphe and was rewarded with a subtle raise of an eyebrow, sharing their familiar humour at the familiar scenario playing out before them.

"Fine!"

Uriel's rebuked voice was pissy and offended, his ill disguised irritation directed at his older brother.

"So, how do ya wanna occupy the time till the 'boy king' returns from tucking up his big bro? Hey Jo, wanna practise exorcism rituals? I'm shit hot at Latin, well so the chicks tell me."

"Uriel!"

Michael's voice was quiet and that one word held a distinct edge of danger. It was a warning to the rebellious angel to back off, and the other occupants of the room twitched in the difficult atmosphere it created.

Uriel however was unrepentant. He was still seething that Michael had elected to leave him here, when he was desperate to redeem himself in the mission to ensure the integrity of the gate.

He opened his mouth to add fuel to the fire, diplomacy never his byword, even as Michael's iridescent violet eyes sought to silence him. Raphael, ever the peacekeeper, headed the furious blond off at the pass.

"Is anyone hungry?"

Despite himself Uri's eyes lit up, his stomach choosing that precise moment to rumble loudly making Jo laugh, and thankfully dissipating the brooding atmosphere in the claustrophobically small room.

Raguel's rich baritone took up the cause.

"So Uri, I guess your intestinal chorus means you're team leader for the food run. That diner we passed as we drove into town looked promising, and I could eat a horse."

Raguel held up the keys for the SUV offering to throw them to Uriel, who folded his arms and leaned back on the bed, not willing to give up the game just yet. He was part way under Michael's skin now, and loving it.

"No. Sorry, Rags, I'd love to but I couldn't possibly be given the responsibility for the food run."

Raguel raised his amused eyebrow in question, and the rebellious angel dropped a hand to his chronically injured leg, rubbing theatrically at the offending limb for the first time in hours.

"Bad leg, remember? Can't be considered fit for your little shindig to the gate, so damn sure I can't be expected to handle the responsibility of a solo burger run."

Michael's chair grated noisily on the linoleum floor as he stood forcefully, a look of barely restrained irritation on his imposing face. Raphe rose with him, placing an unobtrusive but restraining hand on his tense forearm.

An unseemly and distinctly unholy angel altercation was in the offing.

It was left to Jo to break the en passé, which she did with skilfully discreet grace, her experiences with the sometimes challenging Winchester brother's holding her in good stead.

"I'll go, Raguel."

She nodded to the powerful angel; signalling he should throw her the keys for the SUV, which he gratefully did. She walked to stand at the foot of the bed that a now sulking Uriel was occupying.

"And you, sweet Archangel Uriel..."

She lifted the angel's walking cane, offering the carved handle into his raised hand, as she smiled at him.

"Can show me where the diner is."

Her face made it clear she would brook no argument, not that Uri had any thought of doing so, as he scrambled from the bed with surprising flexibility to link her arm as they sauntered for the door.

"No need to rush back, Uriel..."

Raguel smiled at Jo as they reached the door. Uriel stopped on the threshold, his face turned to the tiny huntress, as his linked hand nuzzled her supporting arm in towards his body.

"Hey, Jo, the SUV's a bugger to climb up into with this leg."

He tapped the cane against his denim covered thigh, and Jo raised her eyebrow awaiting Uriel's next statement, as she wriggled her arm away from his lean torso.

"I was thinking maybe we could take the Impala; she'd be easier on my leg to climb into. Dean'll never know and..."

"Don't even go there, Uriel!"

Jo rebuked him, as she pushed him through the door and into the parking lot.

wWw

Sam cracked the door quietly, and slipped into the dimly lit motel room on silent feet, padding the few steps to the bed.

Dean was asleep, laying on his right side, his knees drawn up towards his chest. He was breathing regularly and with less distress than Sam had become used to hearing in the days since his rescue. He stirred a little as Sam watched on, and hugged his arms in to his body, his hand unknowingly rubbing at his forearm as if he was cold, but he did not wake.

Sam reached down and gently eased up the comforter that had slipped to Dean's waist, draping it carefully over the sleeping man, being especially cautious as he covered Dean's damaged left shoulder.

He watched as Dean drew the covers to him, shifting his left shoulder far more easily than before, and Sam smiled as he realised the movement hadn't even disturbed his brother's sleep. That was a significant improvement and Sam silently thanked Raphe for the healing.

It was good to see Dean sleep without gasping in pain every few seconds and Sam was struck by how much younger he looked as he lay there. It was easy and sometimes convenient to forget that Dean was only 4 years older than himself; forget that there was a time when Dean's life had been free of horror and monsters and the constant responsibility to protect Sam, and from Dean's perspective, the rest of the world too.

Looking at him now, his handsome face relaxed in sleep, he was reminded that his brother had once known an ordinary life. He wished suddenly and desperately that he could take away some of the overwhelming burden that his brother so readily carried every day, but he didn't know how to begin to do that.

He stood a few more moments, watching his big brother sleep, as memories of all the times Dean had been there for him, when he was afraid in the darkness, played through his mind, pricking his eyes with tears. He was glad he was here this once.

Finally, reassured that Dean was sleeping restfully, Sam moved to leave. Only to turn back anxiously as he heard Dean murmur his name in his sleep, terrified that this was the prelude to yet another horrific nightmare.

He held his breath, to release it in abject relief five long seconds later as he realised Dean was only dreaming, a normal, harmless, nightmare free dream.

Sam reached out his big hand and ever so slightly ruffled his brother's spiky dirty blond hair, feeling the breath catch in his throat as he realised how close he had been, maybe still was, to losing him.

"Sleep well, Dean"

He whispered, turning quietly for the door.

wWw

Sam returned to Jo's motel room and the angels, torn between needing to hear what Raphael had to say and his reluctance to leave Dean alone and unprotected.

He went immediately to Raphe, standing before the washed out angel, gratitude written across his open face.

"Thank you, Raphael."

Sam's smile was genuine and heartfelt, and Raphe felt his weariness lift significantly as a result.

"He's sleeping much more easily, and I saw him move his shoulder with much less pain than before."

"He is a little better, Sam, I was indeed able to help him with his arm somewhat and I was pleased to do so. But the situation is more complicated than I thought. We really do need to talk."

Sam nodded, his relief fading, leaving his young face serious and troubled once more.

"OK, but I don't really want to leave him on his own; I know he's only next door but..."

He trailed off, seeing understanding in Raphe's soft grey eyes.

"Well we can't speak in your room, we'd be bound to wake him and I do want him to get some rest..."

"I'll go watch him if you like, Sam?"

Raguel was half way to his feet, when Michael's restraining hand brushed at his shoulder.

"Let me go, I feel responsible, on many levels, for Dean's suffering and would like to make amends."

The angel's eyes intently held Sam's as he spoke and the young hunter could see the need for atonement clearly in Michael's questioning face.

"Michael, I don't know. Dean is ...well, you kinda..."

Sam struggled for the right words, not wanting to offend the angel or add unwittingly to his obvious distress, but by the same token needing to protect Dean. Sam's hesitancy was Michael's prompt, and his soft words spilled needily into the room.

"I understand, Sam. You were going to say that Dean is afraid of me. It saddens me but I know that my face terrifies him. Dean, quite logically, associates me with the prolonged and vicious torture that he endured. I accept my culpability in his ongoing nightmare, and wish with all my heart that I could change what has been. But I cannot. It would be a kindness if you could find it within you to let me help him even in this very small way. Please Sam."

Raguel quietly raised his hand to his brother's, the pain in Michael's guilt wracked words, bruising his heart.

Sam looked into Michael's face seeing the turmoil there. It was balanced by years, maybe centuries, of wisdom, experience and responsibility, but it was plain to see and Sam felt himself drawn to ease the angels suffering if he could.

"Sure, Michael. He's sleeping anyway, so won't really know if anyone is there or not, but I just need to know he's not alone, vulnerable."

The Prince of Angel's smiled then, grateful that this man would forgive him enough to allow him this precious assignment.

"I'll call you if he wakes."

Sam nodded, and Michael paced to the door, intent on his self appointed role as Dean's temporary protector.

wWw

Uriel held his hand to his heart, his face a picture of misunderstood innocence as Jo gunned the powerful SUV towards the diner.

"Jo, I'm shocked that you would think that of me!"

Jo laughed; an easy and infectious sound, wickedly letting Uri know that whilst her words professed disapproval for his action, she secretly found his theatrics entertaining.

"Uriel! You are so trying to piss him off and don't even bother denying it because a blind man could see what you're doing."

She glanced briefly from the road, observing the angel's poor attempt at affronted dignity out of the corner of her eye, as she tried to stifle her inappropriately encouraging laugher. It felt so good to laugh and even though at the back of her mind Jo saw the horrors of the past few days, she revelled in the release. Uriel was good company, irreverent and flirtatious as he undoubtedly was.

"Well, I love him, Jo, he's my brother and all, but sometimes he's so far up his own ass that he's unbearable. In fact I'd go as far as to say that The Prince of Angel's is a bit of a pious gobshite sometimes."

Jo laughed out loud this time at the profanity of Uri's statement, saying a silent Hail Mary for absolution as she did, and hanging a right into the diner parking lot as Uri indicated.

"Why are you so angry at him?"

She switched off the 4X4's powerful engine and turned in her seat to look directly at the angel beside her. Uriel smiled, finding himself surprisingly disarmed by the woman who had shown such resolve during the horrors of the last few days. He found his next line of snark dissolving into the warmth of her honey-brown eyes.

"Lots of reasons I guess..."

It was a much more serious response than Jo had anticipated, and beneath the dismissive words she thought she maybe heard a subtle request for her to pursue her question. She found herself curious to know what made this unusual being before her tick, and she cautiously pressed on.

"Do you want to tell me?"

Uriel looked away from her, his hands fiddling distractedly with the seatbelt catch, his eyes suddenly anywhere but on Jo. After a few seconds Jo thought perhaps his silence had answered her question, when the recalcitrant angel suddenly started to talk.

"Well, the first thing is he's my brother and whilst I might pretend it's not the case, I need him."

It was a simple collection of words; but Jo knew it tore a swathe of emotion as wide as an ocean from this proud man. She nodded, contributing soft noises of affirmation and understanding, but not wanting to break Uriel's flow with actual words.

"And he left me. He went away, for years Jo. And we couldn't find him, we could only see the hideous aftermath of the actions his body, possessed by that thing, wrought on the world."

Uriel turned his face to Jo now and she saw anguish and desperation and loss in his bright white eyes.

She reached over and took his hand, her heart touched by his pain. He smiled at her then, the defensive part of him aiming for a smart mouthed deflection of her sympathy, whilst the hurt and vulnerable being beneath that, cried out for her to keep listening.

"Do you know want to know something else, Jo? Another reason I'm furious with the stupid fuck."

Jo nodded, her eyes giving him permission to unburden himself.

"Did you ever wonder how he ended up being possessed? He is, after all, a pretty serious power topside. You'd assume he could spot a daemon at 50 ft and tell it to piss off!"

Jo thought about it for a moment or two.

"Yeah, I guess."

"It was my fault, Jo. He was saving my sorry ass, yet again, saving me! I fuck up and he rides in on his white charger, sacrifices himself, and saves his idiot baby brother. It's a bloody stupid pattern that we draw and redraw time and time again."

Uriel paused; his chest heaving with emotion, and his eyes brimming with threatened tears. Jo sat quietly, his cold hand in hers, her calm, affirming gaze holding him steady as the world swam about him.

"You see, I command..."

He snorted derisively, as the word mocked his failings.

"I command Tartarus, Jo. That's my job. I spend my days with the worst of sinners, the 'Jerry Springer rejects' of both ethereal and corporeal worlds, and I ensure their exile. They are a choice bunch, Jo, they wear you down, wheedle their way into your consciousness and after a while they have a way of getting to ya, or they try to anyway."

Uriel paused, his memories painful.

"One of them got near to breaking me, breaking my resolve to hold him in exile. Michael saved me, Jo, but in defending me, it got him. Possessed him..."

Tears dripped from Uriel's chin, and his throat constricted so much that words could not squeeze through. Jo filled them in for him.

"Mikey?"

Jo couldn't hide the horror of that name from her voice.

"Yeah, Mikey! Well, Belial really. He chose the name Mikey more to piss us off than anything else."

"So you're mad because Michael put your worth above his own?"

Huge, splodgy droplets of déjà vu were landing around Jo, splashing her with fragments of conversations that she and Sam had shared about his not-dissimilar feelings for Dean, and she wondered at how alike Uriel and Sam were in many ways. She knew that Uriel's anger, just as Sam's, was born of fear for, and love of, their perpetual defenders, Michael and Dean.

"Yeah. Sounds childish huh?"

Uriel's voice was a defeated whisper. She took his hand in both of hers, demanding his gaze.

"You should talk with Sam you know, Uri. You two have so much in common. Big brothers you love and who seem desperate to destroy themselves for you."

Uriel grimaced at her words.

"Yeah well, I'll have plenty of opportunity."

"I don't understand?"

Uriel shrugged his shoulders, despondently.

"Michael's leaving me here, with the good ole Winchester boys, whilst he, Raphe and Raguel go check that the gate is holding and Mikey and his chums are neatly tucked up still."

"Ah!"

Jo nodded knowingly, her playful assurance annoying the angel.

"Ah, what?"

"So you're pissed because Raphe and Raguel get to go to 'prom' with Michael and the daemons, and you have to stay home and watch TV with Sammy and Dean! Scared you'll miss all the fun, huh?"

"Bitch!"

Uriel's affronted face was a picture, and Jo leaned towards him and chastely kissed his cheek.

"Come on, Jerk. Let's go order the food."

wWw

Raphael looked at Sam's worried face, watched the chase of emotion across his dark eyes, and waited for him to speak. The angel was not surprised that the young hunter had been rendered temporarily speechless. He cast a glance to Raguel, and his brother silently mouthed "Wow!" over Sam's downcast head.

"So, you started to heal his shoulder, and it was working because it's obvious he is in less pain and he's even moving it a bit."

Sam looked up. He had his analytical face on, the angel's account having become a mystery to unravel.

"Yes, Sam. The healing worked but..."

Sam interjected.

"But instead of it being all 'warm fuzzies'..."

Raguel grinned at Sam's description of his brother's miraculous angelic power and Raphe smiled too.

"'warm fuzzies'...it was hurting Dean?"

Raphe's forehead creased in frustration.

"Well, yes, Sam. For most recipients healing is wonderful. Restoring and uplifting. It's like the recreation goes on under the grace of a 'spiritual' anaesthetic."

Raguel nodded with enthusiasm and pride as his brother described his God given gift.

Sam pursed his lips in concentration.

"But Dean could 'feel' the reconstruction of his shoulder like he was having surgery without the anaesthetic?"

Raphe grimaced at the parallel, and the implied pain it carried.

"Yeah, it was something like that I think."

"So you stopped?"

Sam unconsciously raised his large hand, his palm forward in a gesture of halt.

"Yes, and tried to withdraw, but couldn't."

Raguel placed fresh mugs of coffee in front of both Sam and Raphe, reclaiming his own seat and sipping at the scalding, caffeine rich brew. He looked thoughtfully at his brother angel.

"And then Dean bounced the healing right back at ya?"

Raphe rubbed at his arm, still able to feel the bolt of energy that had seared into consciousness.

"Yes, Raguel, Dean had this...I don't really know, call it a violent 'epiphany', and then gave the healing back to me."

They all sat in contemplation for a moment or two; sips of coffee were taken as they processed the information.

Sam swallowed the bitter drink, thinking vaguely how much he'd like a cinnamon latte, and how much grief Dean would give him for even thinking that. He glanced at his watch. It was almost an hour since he had left Dean with Michael and he was anxious to go check he was OK. He hoped Dean was still out for the count and he would wake to find Sam beside him not the imposing angel, who so scared his brother. His need to understand what Raphe could explain, and his need to see Dean in a peaceful and safe sleep warred within him again, and he looked urgently to Raphe, more questions in his head than he had yet had answers for.

"So Raphe, are you saying that your healing of Dean, turned him into a healer?"

It was a direct enquiry, spoken in a no-nonsense way, and the angel could have taken offence. However, he saw in Sam a brother desperately worried for his sibling, and took it at face value.

"Not exactly, Sam. It's more like the healing unlocked a door deep within Dean. No, that's not really it. I think the binding, back in that grim cellar with the daemon, unlocked the door, and my healing simple allowed Dean to see it was unlocked and push it open."

"So the gift of healing was always inside him?"

Sam's eyes were wide and intent on the angel's face, his fascination and pride in this new found side to his brother, evident.

"I think so. Yes, Sam. I think there was always a gift of power within your brother, but he locked it away. I don't know if that was a conscious thing or if your, shall we say, unusual life, somehow suppressed it. The binding however, that 'taking him to the edge of life', jolted it loose."

"Wow!"

Sam's voice reflected his wonder, and Raphe nodded along with him.

"Yeah, Sam, it is a Wow! It's like Dean's energy leapt into me undefined, unspecified, and then turned itself to healing when it saw my gift. I think he had a natural ingrained affinity for healing but it may be that he can turn it to other skills too, with practice."

Sam sat; his eyes on the angel but not really seeing the being before him, as he contemplated the hugeness of Raphe's words.

Raphael raised his mug to take a drink, to find it empty. He watched Raguel rise and bring the coffee jug from the gurgling machine to refill him, the startling blue eyes of his brother angel boring into him as he poured. Those eyes shrieked 'turn his skills to other things?', and Raphe acknowledged his unspoken concerns with the barest nod. That was a conversation probably not for Sam's ears and certainly not for now.

Sam shook himself from his reverie, and focussed again on the two older men before him, anxious to have any information that might help him to help Dean with all this.

"So then, when Dean healed you, Raphe, it worked and everything?"

The angel laughed out loud, a look of pleasure on his angular features.

"Yes, Sam. It was wonderful and, apart from being exhausted by the intensity of the whole event, I feel centuries younger."

Raguel laughed then also, and clapped his brother on the back heartily.

"Gotta get me some of that then, Raphe!"

"But then, you said it hurt Dean to heal you?"

Sam ignored the bantering, his worries for Dean resurfacing, his need for answers keen.

"Umm, yeah. It did, Sam. Crippling pain in his head."

Sam cringed, feeling the pain his visions brought, and knowing how uncomfortable Dean was that he had vision, let alone that it knocked him for 6 as well. How was Dean going to feel if his 'gift' affected him similarly? Made Sam wonder if he had always known the gift was there inside him, and he had pushed it away, in fear?

"So why does it hurt him to use this gift? Forgive me but it's a crappy gift if it's as horrible as you described to use."

Raphe rubbed his face tiredly, the 'every question answered another two found' was starting to frazzle his nerves, so what the hell was it doing to Sam? Raguel chipped in.

"Fair point, Sam. Maybe that was a 'first time' thing? You know, gets easier when you know what you're doing? Kinda like sex."

The angel's look of vague embarrassment that he had just likened the receipt of a divine gift to screwing was a joy to behold and Sam and Raphael burst into laughter, shortly to be followed by a blushing Raguel.

"Well..."

Sam wiped tears from his eyes as they calmed down.

"Dean was a real fast learner when it came to sex, so that at least should stand him in good stead!"

Chapter ends

e smiled too.

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17


	6. Chapter 6

**So Not An Angel! By DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 6 Getting Reacquainted?

Dean yawned and opened his eyes slowly, allowing the residual pounding in his head to settle to a dull thud, before risking moving any actual body parts. His mouth was dry and his eyes felt sticky, but on the whole he had to admit to feeling better than he had since the whole 'poltergeist hunt gone wrong' launch to this sorry episode of his sitcom life.

He was still lying on his right side; thus protecting his left shoulder, as this remained the worst of the catalogue of injuries his time with the daemon, Mikey. It was also the wound that Raphael had concentrated on healing, and though that hadn't exactly gone to plan either, he could feel that it was nowhere near as painful as it had been.

He rolled slowly onto his back, and was pleased to find that even when his shoulder contacted the thin, lumpy motel mattress it only now shrieked its protests in a soft-ish quasi- friendly fashion!

His head though was thumping like the hind leg of a mangy dog getting it's back scratched and he put his hand up to his face, rubbing his eyes trying to ease the reverberating booming and clear his blurry vision.

It was then that he became aware that someone was in the room with him, and knew absolutely, even without seeing, that it categorically was not Sam. He nonchalantly lowered his right hand down to the bed, slipping it back beneath the rumpled comforter to grip the leather bound handle of the knife secreted there, wondering just what the hell he was going to do next.

Michael watched Dean awake with a mixture of relief and trepidation. Relief that he had slept relatively peacefully and awoken apparently without too much pain, though he suspected the Winchester pain scale was very different to that of the average human. And trepidation for the conversation he hoped to have with the man that his possessed alter ego had so systematically brutalised just days ago.

He deliberately did not move as the hunter yawned and moved stiffly in the bed, waiting until Dean's sudden attentive stillness signalled he was aware of the angel's presence.

"Can I get anything for you?"

Michael kept his voice neutral and soft as he spoke into the dimly lit silence of the small room, and was surprised when he received an immediate and similarly neutral answer.

"You could open the curtains."

Michael rose and moved carefully to the window avoiding getting too close to the bed; deliberately keeping his movements slow and as small as possible for a being of imposing stature, trying to limit any potential distress he might cause Dean.

The angel reached the window and, grimacing at the repulsive psychedelic pattern, slowly began to open the shabby curtains. He had them about half way allowing the low white winter sunlight to flood the room, when Dean's voice halted his actions.

"Enough"

Michael lowered his hands and turned back to the bed. Dean was watching him intently, squinting a little in the soft light, his face calm but alert.

"Can I do anything else for you?"

"Drink of water, please."

Dean watched as Michael smiled and stepped into the small bathroom. He fought to keep his face composed, but the memories of the pain and fear he had suffered at the daemon's hand assaulted him and he was unable to prevent his mask of nonchalance crumbling, to be replaced with an expression of impossible to disguise panic.

"Get a grip, Winchester!" Dean silently berated himself, trying to quiet the urge to hyperventilate. He listened to the tap running in the bathroom, and set about struggling to sit up hoping it would help him feel slightly in control. Why was he always flat on his freaking back and in pain in this guy's presence?

Michael observed the struggling man in the bed through the crack of the open door, and was dismayed to see his apparent calm crumble when he thought himself unobserved. He watched as Dean favoured his good right shoulder to crane himself up the bed, and then rest, gasping as quietly as he could, with his hand on ribs that were obviously painful.

Dean kept his ear to the sounds from the bathroom, as he breathlessly bit down the ache in his ribs, (and shoulder, and hand too if he was honest), desperate to appear as in control as he could in the face of this being who had invaded his space once more. He kept reminding himself; this is not the daemon this is an angel, sorry- actually a freaking archangel! They are all halos, harps and happiness, aren't they? Pity he just happens to look exactly like that total fuck, Mikey!

The water stopped in the bathroom and Dean engaged shields, braced for hyperspace, and had a respectable semblance of his game face on by the time Michael approached the bed, carefully handing him the glass of cool water.

It was a surreal situation, having the living embodiment of the vicious bastard who had tortured Dean to the end of his endurance wait on him. It would have been funny if it were not for the fact that Dean's terror stricken heart was beating in time to Led Zeppelin's throbbing rhythm from Kashmir. He raised the glass to his lips suppressing the shake of his hand reasonably well as he sipped ever so slowly at the water, his wary eyes never leaving Michael's.

The angel stood passively beside the bed, regretfully sensing the turmoil he was causing within this good and battered man. He watched as Dean pretended to drink, knowing in reality the hunter was using the activity as a time buyer whilst he thought how on Earth to deal with Michael's overwhelming presence.

Michael decided a slight retreat was in order hoping it would help Dean to find the actual calm he was desperately projecting. He moved to the foot of the other bed, as far away from Dean as he could get, yet still be within intimate conversational distance, and slowly sat himself on the uncomfortable mattress.

Dean lowered the glass from his lips, but shook his head as Michael made to take it back from him.

He stretched his arm across his body, leaning and reaching to place the now half empty glass on the bedside shelf between the two single beds. He was almost there when his barely less than totally busted ribs reminded him sharply that they had been, so far, neglected in Raphe's healing regime.

The glass fell to the floor smashing on the already stained carpet, and Dean rushed his hands protectively to his throbbing side, as a pain filled groan escaped his tightly pressed lips.

Michael rose to his feet and moved to try and help, desperately wanting to ease the pain he felt so responsible for, knowing even as he moved that it was the worst thing he could do.

Dean watched with horror as the being with the face of his nemesis, rose and moved toward him as he let go his grinding ribs and searched desperately amongst the disorganised covers for his knife, finally giving in to his panic and shouting as loudly as he could manage.

"_Sam!_"

wWw

Sam heard the crash of glass from the room next door to Jo's, and was on his feet and out the door and almost at Dean's room as he heard his brother's pain filled voice calling his name. His instinct to protect was all consuming and the door crashed back on its hinges as his lanky but powerful frame drove through it into the room, the other angels hard on his heels.

Dean lay on the bed propped up on the pillows; one hand clutched to his ribs and his knife in the other shakily pointed at Michael who stood motionless at the bottom of the bed. Dean was in obvious pain and was breathless with panic, his mouth wide open as he gasped.

Sam moved directly to his brother; pushing Michael roughly away from the bed and calling for Raphe, as Raguel moved to his remorseful brother leading him away and sitting him at the table, away from the wide eyed man on the bed.

Sam sat on the bed to Dean's side, and placed his large hand gently on Dean's right shoulder.

"Has he hurt you?"

Sam kept his voice slow and calm, trying to bring his terrified brother down from his hyperventilation, and understand what had happened to cause it in the first place.

Dean couldn't speak, could barely get enough air to keep from passing out, but he managed to shake his head.

"Is it your ribs?"

Sam placed his other hand carefully over Dean's where it rested against his ribs, and was rewarded with a noisy hiccup of pain, and a nod of the head. Sam cast a glance to Raphe, and the angel sat to the breathless hunter's other side, as Dean's staccato gasps continued to fill the room.

Raphe reached out and gently raised Dean's T-shirt exposing his tightly bandaged ribs, and Sam was dismayed to see a small blossoming of blood on the area where Dean's hand had been. Raphe touched carefully, his hand loose and relaxed as he prepared to heal, but even that small pressure made Dean cry out in pain, his hand pushing Raphe away as his dilated eyes turned back to Sam.

"Hurts, Sam!"

Dean found just enough voice to speak. It was a struggle that would have been made easier if everybody would just stop sticking their great big paws all over his sore body!

"I know Dean, but if ya let Raphe heal it..."

"N...No!"

Dean rolled his eyes, appearing more irritated that distressed.

"Just let Raphael..."

Dean shook his head violently and looked at the healer angel, repeating his message.

"Hurts!"

Raphe could see the pain in Dean's dilated eyes, and yearned to ease his suffering; he moved his hand towards the hunter's bloody bandages, only to be rebuffed again as Dean's frustration to make himself understood peaked.

Dean rolled his head back to his brother and, summoning his remaining strength, tried once more. Sam leaned forward; bringing his ear close to Dean's whispering lips.

"Hurts...when...h...he...heals...me!"

Sam leaned back, kicking himself for failing to see the obvious, and nodding to Dean that he understood finally.

He turned to Raphael.

"He's pissed because it hurts when you heal him. Can you guarantee it won't hurt him like it did when you did his shoulder?"

Raphe looked at Sam with desperate eyes.

"Well, no, Sam, I can't!"

Raphael put his hand on Dean's leg, getting the wheezing hunter to look at him, the blueness of his lips worrying the healer.

"Do you want me to try, Dean?"

Dean thought back to the fiery intensity of his recent initiation to healing at Raphe's hands, weighing up the benefits of his improved shoulder, against the intense discomfort required for the gain. He was locked in hypoxic indecision, his breathlessness making him lightheaded and dragging at his consciousness.

"Dean?"

Sam's voice was urgent, his concern for Dean's distress inducing a reciprocal panic in his own rapidly beating heart. His wide hazel eyes sought Dean's paler green ones and held them in an embrace designed to protect and comfort.

"Let Raphe try. If he can ease the pain in your ribs it will help you breathe better. If it hurts too badly he'll stop. Right, Raphe?"

Sam flicked a gaze at the angel and Raphael nodded over vigorously to ensure the gasping hunter registered his response. Dean centred himself back in Sam's gaze, his trust in his brother absolute and apparent on his pale but acquiescent face as he nodded shakily.

Raphael shifted his position moving towards Dean's bandaged ribs, as the older hunter dropped his guarding hands to his side on the surface of the bed, his face a mixture of curious anticipation and dread.

wWw

Raphael often closed his eyes when he healed finding that it aided his concentration to visualise the reconstruction he needed to deliver to the broken and damaged tissues. It also helped him to feel connected to his source of power and thus it re-energised and spiritually refreshed the healer angel.

This time however he kept his eyes open and focussed on Dean's face as he directed his God given power toward shattered ribs and torn muscle. Raphael felt the wondrous flow of heat and power channel through his hands but was dismayed to see in Dean's grimace that the usual blessing of calm and immediate pain relief that his healing brought was again not in his gift for this recipient.

Dean clenched his teeth and growled softly in the back of his throat as the scant pressure that the angel's soft hands delivered to his ribs ramped his pain up about 15 notches. He grasped at the bedclothes; thinking to bunch the tattered comforter in his hands as a distraction for the pain and to prevent him curling his fingers into a fist and punching out the lights of any blessed angel within his reach.

Damn if this didn't hurt just as much as last time and boy was it pissing him off. Where was the warm glow of restoration and the tinkling angel harps? This whole angelic power deal was so not what the marketing guys would lead a hunter to believe.

Sam watched Dean's jaw clench and his body tense to breaking point and didn't need to ask if his brother was experiencing a repeat performance of the unfortunately anaesthetic free reconstructive surgery that his shoulder healing had been. He watched the agonising process of muscle and bone re-growth, through the increasing dilation of already wild eyes and continued panicky hyperventilation. Hell, he needed to calm Dean down and quickly or he was gonna blow a fuse!

_In the sightless, soundless deprivation that was his exile, Mikey delighted as he felt delicious pain flare to a throbbing crescendo in his favourite hunter. He savoured Dean's agony and sensed his newly awakened power pulse in response to the re-bestowed gift of healing from another. The daemon opened his warped mind and watched through the bars of his ethereal captivity as the angel's sweet divine power burned and seared as it repaired the destruction he had wrought on tender mortal flesh. He braced himself; ready to infiltrate Dean's vulnerable consciousness if the healing awakened the hunter's burgeoning potential. He waited, impatient for release from his torment and eager to be reunited with his newly empowered quarry. _

"Dean!"

Sam's voice was loud enough to carry above the choppy panting that reverberated around the room and authoritative enough to make Dean concentrate despite the fact that a less than welcome road construction gang of orthopedically reckless psychopaths were applying their jackhammers to his bruised ribs. And add to that he could feel - or was it sense? -the thrumming within him that was his own new and disturbing power awakening and responding in kind. He checked himself; seeking the strength to contain it and manage the pain of the healing, fearful of what might be the consequence if he could not.

"Dean?"

"W...wht?"

Dean gasped the question but Sam was pleased to see a healthy dollop of irritation lurking just behind the hiccupping pain. Irritation was an emotion he could harness and work with to distract his brother from his continuing panic.

"You gotta calm down."

Good, a dangerous glower that said 'Yeah, Sam, let's see you try and be calm whilst this damned angel tap dances all over your mangled ribs and this freaky new mojo I seem to have acquired ripples through your body!'

"Remember when we were on the plane? You were hysterical then too..."

"Hy...s...t...r...cl!"

Dean barely had the breath to get that one word out but there was no way he was going to let a crack like that go. His eyes sparked with a blaze of emerald green as they wordlessly shrieked in disgust at Sam's 'designed to patronise' parental gaze.

'Sammy, here we are trapped in this shitty motel room; a claustrophobically small motel room I might add that is way too full of hordes of freaking angels!

'Oh and why don't we consider those angels shall we, Sammy? One is a sadistic layer-on-of-huge-big-heavy-hands who is currently engaged in terrorising every single nerve-pain receptor combo he can find. Another just happens to bear a stunning resemblance to the bastard who had busted me up so badly that I needed the whole laying on of hands crap in the first place and the third is built like a prize fighter and exudes a not too subtle sense of menace and for all I know is gonna re-bust me just for fun once 'huge hands Raphe' has mended me.

So tell me, Sam, how is all that designed to make me feel calm? Add to that I don't know what the hell this whole healing deal I seem to have gotten means for me 'cause the only time I let it loose my head ended up exploding like the Enola Gay's payload. Oh and hey Sam, you're the family expert in headaches and 'freaky powers' so you gotta know that don't feel too good and that it's scaring the shit outta me! '

Sam watched as his well chosen and deliberately provocative words fuelled Dean's internal dialogue which generated enough annoyance to direct his focus away from the pain. He smiled a little then as he saw Dean's heaving chest gradually slow and the wild look of panic leave his pale eyes to be replaced with significant irritation at his disrespectful baby brother.

As Dean's blood pressure hiked down a notch or two and his over-riding sensation of panic diffused he gratefully, if reluctantly, realised that Sam's clever distraction therapy had helped bring him down. All the same Sam's choice of the word hysterical still pissed him off. His next realisation was that he didn't much care for being the centre of attention of all these damned angels. He wriggled under Raphe's hands pushing the healer determinedly away.

"Enough, Raphe."

His voice was gravelly and not as powerful as he would have liked but the grey haired man nodded his understanding and withdrew his hands sitting back in quiet contemplation of the embarrassed man fidgeting in the bed.

The pain of the healing began to dissipate rapidly and Dean placed an exploratory hand on his ribs relieved that the soon to be forgotten agony had been worthwhile.

"I could do more."

Raphe looked at Dean as he spoke; keen to totally ease the hunter's pain.

"Your ribs are still very fragile so you're gonna be uncomfortable for a while, and..."

He nodded towards Dean's bandaged left hand and sutured right forearm.

"I could help with those too."

Dean was shaking his head even as Raphe was voicing his offer, and when he responded Sam could hear just that edge of panic in his voice still.

"No, thank you, Raphael, but it's enough."

His throat was dry making him cough, and he reached gratefully and with much less pain as a bottle of water was proffered from the foot of the bed.

Sam's eyes followed Michael as he handed the water to Dean and there was undisguised mistrust in the younger hunter's hazel glare, which the angel was keenly aware of, as he spoke to the coughing man.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I had no wish to distress you and certainly not to cause you further pain."

"Yeah. Well you did."

Sam's voice was notably angry and Dean took his turn at being the calm one of the partnership.

"It's Ok, Sam. It was my fault. I saw Michael and for a moment there I couldn't tell him apart from..."

Dean unconsciously paused, the name of his daemon nemesis sticking in his dry throat.

"From Mikey but I've got it straight in my head now. I know that Michael was possessed and it was not him who... "

Dean trailed off unwilling to give voice to what Mikey had done to him.

Michael nodded his thanks, his otherworldly violet eyes holding Dean's equally pale jade gaze as a wealth of understanding passed between the two men. Both had known the torment of the daemon's madness; Michael as the possessed and Dean as the captive and it gave them a strong common bond.

"Thank you."

The angel's voice was heavy with his gratitude and Sam allowed the now apparent calm in Dean's eyes to dissipate his own anger too.

"So, Dean, Sam, would now be a good time to ask for a favour?"

Michael moved to the bed where Sam was seated as he spoke, checking if he was forgiven enough to be allowed to sit near to the now more robust looking Dean. It took a few seconds but Sam eventually hitched, somewhat reluctantly, up the bed as Michael dropped to sit beside him.

"What is it you want?"

Dean was attempting to sit up a bit straighter as he spoke, and was doing pretty well, so was unimpressed when both Sam and Raphe started fussing over him. He swatted their hands away and shuffled and wriggled determinedly until he was comfortably upright against the tangled mess of pillows behind him. He was out of breath but relieved to find he was only in moderate pain from both his shoulder and the recently tendered ribs. He smiled cockily and Raphe and Sam both sat back down delighted that they were not needed.

"Sorry, Michael. What was it you wanted from us?"

"I join with Sam in my relief that your pain is less, Dean. It is an agony for a brother to watch the pain of a sibling."

Michael watched Sam and Dean exchange a short but telling glance. The angel looked at Raphe and saw the remaining hesitation on his brother's face for his planned course of action and though he acknowledged it he pressed on.

"And that's what I need your help with; the challenge that is my brother, Uriel."

Sam thought of the pissy, snarky, blond angel who had butted heads with Michael only hours earlier and was puzzled as to what help the Prince of Angels was seeking. He looked at Dean and saw the same incomprehension on his brother's now happily less pale face as Dean voiced their shared inquiry.

"What is it you want us to do for Uriel?"

"We have to go check that the Gate remains safely closed and that the daemon you know as Mikey, and we know as Belial is contained. Uri is..."

Michael searched for a word that would describe his brother's shattered psyche without giving offence to the two men before him knowing the ordeal they too had endured.

"Uri is fragile..."

Sam watched as Michael described his brother angel's state and saw Dean flinch just fractionally at the choice of word.

"And so I don't want him at the Gate where evil will be rife and he will be in more danger. I need to know he is safe for a while so Raguel, Raphe and I can concentrate on doing our job."

"I still don't see what you want us to do?"

Dean checked out Sam's face as he spoke and was surprised to see that his own incomprehension was significantly more profound than Sam's. He raised an eyebrow in question as he moved against the uncomfortably bunched up pillows; wishing he had not been so stubborn as to decline Sam or Raphe's help to get settled, and gratefully leaned forward as Raphael noticed his discomfort and repositioned the bedding. He voiced his incomprehension with one word.

"Sam?"

"I think I am beginning to understand Uri's anger at you when we were next door."

Sam looked at Michael as he spoke, challenge and foreboding in his eyes.

"You want to leave Uriel here with us while you go check the Gate and he doesn't want to be left does he?"

"No he doesn't, Sam, but can you see why I do not want him to go? His leg is still healing so he's not physically up to strength, but it's his soul I fear for most. I want him safe for awhile and I need to know that he is with people who understand what he has been through and may help him to see that all this was not his fault."

"And just why would he think this is his fault, Michael?"

Dean's voice was quiet; the importance of his question apparent to all in the room, and his eyes were haunted with the possibility of his own oft anticipated failure to protect his brother.

"My possession by the daemon Belial/Mikey was a direct result of my intervention to protect Uriel. I was given a choice by the daemon; my life, body, soul for my brother's and I chose to give it. Uri has found my decision very difficult to bear."

Dean trembled visibly; shaken to the core by the parallels his and Sam's life had with these divine beings. He felt Sam's dark hazel eyes burning into him as he sat shaking on the bed but was terrified to look up into that familiar gaze and thus into his brother's soul.

Sam watched as Dean's face blanched as the revelations of the angel cut through his hastily reconstructed defences and he knew that the kinship of their lives and that of the beings before them had rocked him to the core. He sought for his brother's eyes but knew Dean feared to let Sam see his vulnerability. Sam stretched out his arm and with as little fuss as possible laid his hand reassuringly over Dean's as the angel continued.

"So, I want him safe for a while. I want my brother, my Uriel, to have the chance to heal his heart as well as his body and I think he may do that with you because you will understand his fragility."

Michael looked than at Raphe and saw the tears in his soft grey eyes, and then at Raguel who placed his hand to his heart and nodded his support to Michael.

Finally Dean raised his head and turned his eyes to his brother, and Sam felt an eternity of emotion flow toward him. Sam nodded once and turning to Michael spoke for the Winchesters.

"We would be honoured to help you, Michael."

Chapter ends


	7. Chapter 7

**So Not An Angel! By DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 7 An Offer From Michael.

It felt amazingly good to be up on his feet and moving under his own steam again; even if he was walking at a pace slower than many of the decaying zombie's they had met in their work, and the ground was perversely tilting to 45 degrees beneath his cotton-candy feet.

However, the posse of worried looking outriders all vying for the opportunity to catch his sorry ass should he fall bugged him to death. He felt hemmed in by a myriad of over protective brothers and angels; and wanted to tell them noisily to back the hell off and give him some space.

The only thing that prevented him was that tiny part of him, the part that wasn't defiantly; OK stubbornly, independent, recognised that if he was going to stay on his feet he really ought to have accepted Sam's offer of a steadying arm.

Still, it was a very good day compared to the last few and he vowed to stay upright if only to defy the posse dogging him. And to hell with the fact that felt like he'd had the crap kicked outta him by a daemon. But wait... Oh hell yeah; he had!

Sam hovered next to his brother; trying desperately to appear like he was simply dawdling along at Dean's slightly wobbly side, and knowing that his solicitude was annoying his older brother to death.

He glanced at the angels and very nearly laughed as he realised that the three of them were formed up around his brother like worried parents of a three year old on his first two wheeler bike ride. It was a sight to behold, the holiest of the holy on Winchester babysitting duty!

It was almost worth the increasingly annoyed look on Dean's face. Almost.

wWw

They finally reached their other room and Raguel opened the door, going ahead to shift the hastily disarrayed furniture out of the injured man's way. Dean took a pause in the door frame of the room, using a shaky hand to steady himself as he collected his strength for the last leg to the small table.

Sam took the opportunity to come alongside his brother bending a little so he could slip his arm around Dean's waist, grasping his belt, as tired green eyes wavered to focus on his face.

"I can...make it, Sam"

Dean's voice was only slightly annoyed and Sam knew he had won this minor battle for sibling independence.

"I know you can, but it'll be easier if ya let me help..."

Dean looked at his brother for a second or two and then Sam felt his brother's hand snake up his back to grasp his shoulder in gratitude, as Sam took his weight and eased him towards the bed Raguel was indicating.

"No, Sam!"

Dean's voice was wearily indignant and vaguely petulant; and the slightest smile curled Sam's lip as he thought back to his earlier image of a child on his first bike ride. Stifling the smile he looked at Dean's pouting face, his eyes questioning.

"Not the bed. I've had enough of being in bed to last me for a while."

Sam nodded his eyes finding Raphael and glancing at the table and its abandoned, over-turned chairs. The angel picked up Sam's meaning and had a chair upright and proffered by the time the brothers had made their way there.

Dean eased onto the seat and rested his arms on the table before him. He was utterly exhausted from just that little walk and he found that slightly scary. However he was pleased that the formerly excruciating pain in his shoulder and ribs had only been awakened to a dull, teeth-rattling throb by the adventure.

That was a big step forward compared to the numbing agony of the last few days and Dean had to admit this whole healing thing had significant benefits, pity it hurt like a bitch to have done.

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder and he looked into Raphe's questioning grey eyes.

"You okay?"

Dean smiled; a genuine, warm smile of thanks, conveying the gratitude he found hard to articulate. The smile was reciprocated and Dean was surprised by the connection he felt to the energy of the healer angel.

He opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by the noisy banging open of the door and loud laughter as Uriel and Jo returned from the supplies run.

"So, you think he'll lend us his precious Impala-baby, and then you and I can tear up this town and..."

Uriel had his head turned towards Jo, chattering away; a huge and flirtatious smile plastered across his face, as he walked into the motel room. His question was, he knew, disrespectful of the older Winchester, yet he spoke with deliberate volume to ensure that anyone within the room would hear it.

Jo, for her part, was laughing in return; her face similarly animated with good humour and perhaps slight embarrassment, as she brought up the rear carrying the rest of their supper.

Uriel came to an abrupt halt as he faced the assembled group within the room; taking in first Michael's scowl of disapproval, and then the look of undisguised anger on Dean's pale face.

Jo ploughed into Uriel's back as she failed to stop as abruptly as did the angel. She snorted and pushed him in the back, propelling him a little further into the midst of the emotional melee that was brewing in the tiny room.

"Jeeze, Uri, you better ask him 'cause there's no way I'm gonna suggest to Dean that we go cruising in the Impala! You know how he is about his precious baby. Now move your butt! I nearly spilled the..."

The words died on Jo's lips as she looked up from the precariously tilting coffee cups balanced on their cardboard tray in her hands. She vaguely registered the mixture of embarrassment and unease shared by Sam and the angels at their crass and thoughtless remarks, but it was undeniable Dean's look of hurt and betrayal that halted the breath in her chest.

Dean heard the easy laughter between Jo and Uriel and bit down on the sudden unguarded wave of jealousy that coursed through him. He was angry that he felt it so acutely, but as he looked at Uriel he was consumed by bitterness that Jo was laughing with the angel and not him.

"No, Uriel. I will not lend you my 'precious baby'."

Dean's words were icy cold; which was an impressive counterpoint to the heat of the anger that boiled inside him. Jo saw it there, in his betrayed eyes, but only fleetingly as the well practised Winchester shutters rolled down to protect a heart much more vulnerable than he would ever have anyone believe.

She felt suddenly slightly dizzy, nauseous even, knowing that she had hurt him by her careless ease with Uriel. Shame flushed her cheeks knowing how much he had just endured and what the cost of him; allowing her to know that he was even a tiny bit fond of her. _Damn, badly done Jo!_

She looked around the room then; as Dean's words settled a bitter frost over the repulsive psychedelic swirls of the decor, taking in the demeanour of the other occupants.

Sam smiled with some sympathy for her but she noted, too, how he hovered defensively close to his seated brother, immediately ready to protect him if it proved to be needed.

Michael stood with Raphe; his face a mixture of anger directed at his thoughtless and provocative angel brother and empathy for the seething hunter. Raphe was less judgemental. His soft grey eyes showed his concern for his own brother but for Dean also, whilst he displayed just the slightest humour at the impending pissing competition that the burgeoning relationship between angel and hunter was going to be.

Raguel, for his part, was attempting to play rational peacekeeper and had approached Jo, relieving her of her comestible burden and encouraging her with infinitesimal subtlety to go to Dean.

And the perpetrator of the antithetic atmosphere? Uriel was carefully revelling in his mischief; grinning as widely as he dare knowing that Michael, and indeed Sam, had their eyes on him, and knew exactly what perverse game he was playing.

Jo smiled her thanks to Raguel and moved tentatively towards the table to try and make some peace with her simmering friend and fellow hunter. Dean unconsciously straightened in his chair as she approached; and Raphael caught the soft sound of pain that slipped from his tight lips and his slight pallor, yet he remained at a distance knowing Dean would not thank him for his solicitude at this moment.

"Uriel."

Michael's voice was measured and did not overtly betray his anger with his brother; yet it held scant warmth and it was clear from the slight tension in his stance that he was more than a little perturbed by his brother's insensitivity.

The blond angel tossed the paper sacks of food he was carrying down onto one of the beds with more force than was required; his uber-pale eyes moving from the awkward gathering of hunters at the small table to his brother, Michael's, demanding gaze.

"What?"

His tone was clipped, challenging even, and Raguel closed his eyes briefly sensing the potential fireworks to come.

"Would you join me outside? I think we have something to discuss."

Michael's words made it clear that there was no actual choice in his request yet Uriel held his position for a defiant few seconds; all the time tapping the tip of his cane irritably against floor. Finally, he snorted in disgust and turned on his heel for the door, the imposing figure of The Prince of Angels at his back.

Raguel rose, glancing at Raphe.

"I think I'll get some air, brother."

The angels exchanged a knowing glance and Raguel made a discreet exit giving the hunters some semblance of privacy whilst also forming a UN peace keeping rear-guard for Michael and Uriel. Raphe chose deliberately to stay near to Dean, anticipating his fledgling healer may be in further need of his services. He retrieved the food in its paper sacks from the bed and moved towards the counter of the tiny kitchen area attempting to give Dean and Jo some privacy.

"Sam, will you help me with the food?"

Sam took his lead from the angel; moving from the table and allowing Jo access to sit herself down next to Dean.

"Dean..."

Jo looked into the same green eyes that had sometimes afforded her a privileged glance into the complex if flawed man that was Dean Winchester. This time, however, they were shuttered; the strongly mortared walls of defence built high to keep her out, and protect his battered ego. The coldness of his gaze frightened her and she reached to take his hand as she spoke.

"I'm sorry..."

Dean snatched his hand from hers as the humiliation of her words stung him. The violence of his movement jarred his still healing shoulder; and he was forced to halt his rebuff of her apology or allow his gasp of pain to have voice. There was no way he would let her see his discomfort, lest she think it a cry for sympathy.

"I didn't know you were here or I would..."

She stopped then knowing she had said the wrong thing as Dean's eyes flashed dangerously. She could see the poorly disguised pain in his gaze and knowing how injured he had been was worried to push him further.

"Oh, and you thought I'd gone where, Jo? Out partying or something?"

"Dean...Don't be cruel. I just meant I thought you were still next door, I didn't know you were up and about..."

She stopped and looked into his pale face.

"It's really good to see you up and about, by the way."

She reached to touch his arm and though she felt him flinch slightly at her soft touch he didn't shake her off this time.

"Yeah well, Raphe did a good job."

He looked towards the angel who returned his gaze with a smile and a nod.

"You feel better?"

Her question was genuinely compassionate and Dean softened a little.

"Yeah, I don't hurt as bad."

Jo smiled and squeezed his arm gently; only to have Dean start as the movement tweaked some recently tortured nerve, making a liar of his earlier statement.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dean."

She let go his arm and he smiled weakly to show her it was alright.

"Did I hurt you?"

Jo looked directly into Dean's mesmeric green eyes as she spoke, her heart pounding so hard in her ears that the words hardly registered.

Dean knew very well what the tiny huntress was asking him, what the sentiment beneath the question was, and it scared the pants off him.

"It's OK, Jo. It was just a twinge, my shoulder is still..."

Her honey brown eyes flashed with fiery intensity.

"That's not what I meant, Dean, and you know it."

She held his nervous gaze, and would have been amused at the discomfort she knew this conversation was causing him were it not for the fact that the thought that she may have hurt his heart made her breathless.

Dean wrestled with his emotions, 'fight or flight' reflex hormones coursing through his protesting body.

She watched his face, and saw the conflict there. She felt her stomach churn anticipating the patented glib, defensive Dean Winchester response, so was amazed when it didn't come.

"You were having a good time? You and Uriel, I mean."

Dean's voice was almost inaudible, his gaze focussed resolutely at the table top.

Jo's heart hitched in her chest. She stretched out her small hand and tipped his chin up so his eyes met hers.

"It's been a hard few days for me too, Dean. I thought we had lost you and it...it nearly..."

She stopped then, swallowing hard on the knot in her throat and fighting to stop the tears that threatened to fall.

It was Dean's turn then to reach out a hand to Jo. She did not shake it off though but placed her own over his. She held his velvet gaze, its softness stilling her racing heart.

"We were just laughing, Dean...it's been a long time since I laughed and he's funny...you'll like him if you and he stop butting heads long enough to get to know each other..."

Dean snorted then, rolling his eyes.

"Oh yeah, Uri and I are gonna be best buds, Jo."

She smiled and leaned forward to hug the not unwilling hunter.

"If I don't kill him first!"

Dean muttered into her soft hair.

wWw

Michael breathed deeply and stared at his brother as he leaned with an arrogant disinterest against the bumper of the SUV. He could feel real anger bubbling which horrified him and he struggled to remind himself that Uriel was his brother and that he loved him dearly.

Uriel stared into the distance smarting that he had incurred Michael's wrath but happy to settle for that rather than the impending abandonment that his brother was determined to meter out.

The atmosphere crackled with unvoiced tensions and Raguel felt compassion for both his brothers. He understood Uriel's guilt and encroaching panic at being left behind when the four of them had fought for so long to be reunited, but he also understood Michael's determination to leave Uriel in relative safety when he was as vulnerable as he was. Yet he hated the destructive effect it was having on them all, and especially how it was now impacting on the Winchesters. Sam and Dean had more than enough on their plate without the angels problems biting them.

"So, Guys..."

Raguel stepped forward and leaned himself comfortably against the vehicle next to Uriel.

"What's going on here and how are we gonna resolve this without one or more of us forgetting that we are angels?"

Uri laughed at that and punched Raguel on the arm.

"Funny, bro!"

Michael spoke quietly, his voice soft but serious.

"Is it really funny, Uriel? Raguel is correct. We _are_ angels and some of us are behaving like children."

He stared at his brothers as he spoke. Raguel crossed his arms over his wide chest and rode the moment leaving the response for Uriel.

The silence hung tangibly between them for a brief eternity before Uriel snarled testily.

"You mean, I suppose, that I am acting like a child, Michael?"

He pushed off from the bumper and hastily had to slam his cane to the ground as his knee wavered about bearing his weight. He steadied himself, a very slight hiss of pain whispering through tight lips as he faced his brother.

"Yes, Uri, I do."

Uriel was annoyed at the directness of Michael's response but also a little thrown off guard.

"Well, I don't want to be left behind whilst you go..."

Michael raised his large hand stilling Uri's argument.

"I'm not referring to my decision to leave you behind, Uriel. I know you don't agree with me but that is how it will be now whether you approve or not."

Uriel cast a glance to Raguel, seeking an ally in his argument but found none.

Michael continued.

"I am referring to your crass thoughtlessness..."

Uriel snorted in disgust.

"Come on, Michael, I was laughing with Jo that was all."

"Uri, I wasn't born yesterday and nor am I stupid, so do not insult my intelligence. I know exactly what you were doing."

Violet eyes blazed into a gaze of equally intense white as two of the Divine Host squared up to each other like mismatched pugilists.

"So what was I doing?"

Uriel spat back, spoiling for the fight, only to have Raguel answer diffusing the tension.

"You, my baby brother..."

He threw his arm around Uriel's shoulders.

"Are doing your damndest to irritate all of us into changing our minds and taking you with us after all, by picking a fight with Dean."

Uriel raised his eyebrows and went to open his mouth to speak only to have Raguel tighten his embrace until the smaller angel thought better of it.

"And you are picking that fight by muscling in on relationships that you do not understand, and may irretrievably damage."

Uri wriggled free of Raguel's grasp and limped round to face his brothers.

"So what if I was? Jo's a grown up and she can make her own choices and Dean looks like he could stand his ground if he had to..."

Michael gasped his disbelief.

"Uri, have you forgotten so soon what Dean did for us? If it were not for him you would have not been able to form the binding and Belial would not have been banished. At best you would have been unable to release me and I would have remained in his thrall, and at worst he would likely have killed us all. You asked Dean Winchester for his help to release me and he was willing to give all he had to do that. He deserves our respect for that if nothing else and I suspect there is much more to him that we have yet to know."

Uriel squirmed; shame and annoyance at having his insensitivity pointed out to him competing for space in his mind.

"OK, alright, God-dammit. I'll play nice with Dean and I'll be a perfect angel until you get back! Is that what you needed me to say?"

"Thank you, Uriel. Now shall we rejoin our colleagues and get something to eat as we have to get on the road soon?"

Michael took Uriel's words for acquiescence on his part and was content. Raguel knew better but hoped enough of the message had penetrated his much loved brother's sometimes annoyingly stubborn skull. That was as much as he dared hope for as they turned and walked back to the motel room.

wWw

The meal was taken in a polite, if slightly strained atmosphere, discussion centring mainly on the two faction's imminent travel plans. The angels were focussed on the gate and Sam keen to get Dean, and now Uri, to Bobby's, and all aware of the dangers and tensions in their plans.

Dean stared at the food before him and, though he was hungry, he found himself suddenly so tired that he couldn't contemplate chewing. He glanced across at Uriel and watched as the blond angel threw food down like it was going out of style and felt a twinge of jealousy and annoyance.

Sam watched Dean carefully but without making it obvious he was doing so. He knew Dean was fighting a desperate battle to appear perfectly OK but he could also see weariness in his pale face and trembling hands. He noted that Dean had eaten virtually nothing and knew that would not help him get his strength back. However, he also knew that Dean would kill him if he drew attention to his lack of appetite before the angels, and particularly Uriel. He chewed his own food contemplatively dwelling on the interesting time he was going to have with his two charges.

Dean felt a soft hand on his arm and realised that his eyes had been closed. He opened them to have Jo's solicitous honey brown gaze warm him.

"Not hungry? Can I get you something else? You need to eat, Dean."

He shook his head, and managed a reciprocal smile for her as she nodded sadly and lifted his plate from the table. His ribs throbbed and he shifted stiffly on the chair trying casually to find an easier position. He felt a tremor in the 'mojo' that was now a strange new back beat in his body and found himself looking to Raphe, knowing that somehow it emanated from the congruent energy he and the healer angel shared.

Raphael could feel the tiredness, and with it the decreased tolerance Dean had for the still significant pain from his residual injuries. He met the slightly dilated jade gaze with his own soothing grey. He knew the hunter should be comfortably tucked up in bed getting the peaceful sleep that would help him heal, and he also knew that there was not a chance that was going to happen. He held the gaze his soft eyes silently asking _are you okay? _And seeing Dean nod imperceptibly but knowing that it was a lie.

Uri covered Jo's hand with his as she lifted his empty plate.

"See, Mom! I ate all mine. I won't give you any trouble"

His grinning face cast a small challenge at Dean and their eyes locked briefly.

Dean found Jo's gaze as she extricated her hand from Uriel's and she mouthed the words 'best buddies with Uriel' at him over the angels head. He smiled, biting his lip to hold back from laughing and her warm brown eyes sparkled at him. He didn't rise to Uri's taunt and the room breathed a sigh of relief.

Uriel was surprised that the obviously volatile hunter had not risen to his challenge. Maybe he could push it a little further then.

"So, Dean."

Dean's smile remained on his full lips but faded from his eyes as he looked at the blond angel.

"Uriel?"

Sam tuned from the waste bin where he was stowing the refuse from their meal, concern at Dean's cold tone on his face.

"How come you drive a car nearly as old as I am? Don't fancy something with a bit more appeal to those in this half of the century?"

The smile faded slowly from Dean's face and his words were icy as he responded to the amused angel.

"She's a classic, Uri. But then I wouldn't expect you to recognise that; driving that plasticised soccer-mom bus."

"Jo liked it. Said something about a smooth ride didn't you, Jo?"

Dean glanced at Jo; his green eyes widening just a little as he caught her gaze, her disquiet at being the 'prize' in this sudden competition for dominance obvious.

"I'm not getting into this, boys."

"Well, Uri, it's how Sam, Jo and I are getting to Bobby's so if you don't wanna ride in her maybe you should just..."

Uriel cut in; his raised hand rudely silencing Dean in mid sentence.

"Well maybe I'll just hire me something, and Jo and I'll follow you in your 'vintage' crate..."

Michael could see that Uriel and Dean were going to continue to spat and could also see that Jo was stuck in the middle; the unwilling trophy in a childish battle of male supremacy. He knew there would be nothing but arguments on the cards if Jo were on the scene with Dean and Uri, so he offered her an out.

"Well actually Uri, Dean, I wanted to ask Jo if she would accompany Raguel, Raphe and myself. We could use some help to..."

Uriel was instantly on his feet, outrage on his face.

"You would take her and not me?"

His eyes blazed with rage at Michael.

"We have been through this, Uriel."

Michael's tone silenced Uriel, though his eyes burned into his brother with undisguised anger and hurt.

Jo looked at the angel, surprise all over her face.

"I don't know, Michael..."

She glanced at Sam who returned her look of uncertainty, before focussing on Dean.

Dean sat in perfect stillness at the table; his eyes cast down and tension oozing from his every pore. When he spoke his voice was soft and controlled and he did not raise his gaze until his question hung in the air.

"You can guarantee her safety?"

Michael considered his answer for a few seconds, his calm face turned first to Jo and then back to Dean.

"No, you know what is out there as well as I do, Dean. There are no guarantees."

Dean nodded slowly, appreciating Michael's honest answer, but horrified by its implications.

Jo moved then to sit beside the hunter, taking his hand in hers.

"Dean, I want to help ensure that Mikey/Belial can never get out, never get to you again."

He nodded, but his eyes showed his pain and fear for her. She placed her hand on his arm and he flinched as she unknowingly caressed a piece of Mikey's demented handiwork.

"I would... c... come with you, Jo..."

His words hiccupped with pain and she knew how it burned him that he was still too injured to be of any use and that also he was terrified for her.

"I'll have three arch angels to protect me."

She glanced up and found each set of angel eyes tracking her, confirming her words. Dean's gaze never left her.

"And it'll give you time to heal, away from all this. I need you to be safe for a while."

She reached up then and cupped his cheek with her hand and she felt him press his rough stubble ever so slightly to her.

"Ellen is gonna kill you, Jo. You know that?"

Jo laughed, knowing the truth of his words.

"Then we won't tell her."

Dean grimaced as she turned her head to Michael and nodded her agreement to his offer.

"And she's so gonna kill me!"

"You're not still scared of my Mom are you, Dean?"

Jo laughed as he smiled sheepishly.

"More each time I cross her, Jo. More each time."

Chapter ends.


	8. Chapter 8

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 8 Departure.

Sam collected Jo's bag from the Impala's trunk and walked across the parking lot to join the others gathered at the angel's SUV. He handed the bag to Raguel and the powerful angel tossed it like it was weightless into the rear of the vehicle, forcing Uriel into an undignified scramble out of the way to avoid the hurled missile as he struggled, his upper body reaching into the capacious trunk, to extract his possessions from the haphazard mass of equipment. He grumbled good naturedly at Raguel as he huffed and puffed, the scenario clearly a familiar one.

"Jeeze, Rags, wish you'd learn to pack the gear properly. I can't find a bloody thing in here!"

The older angel punched him heavily on the shoulder, and reached over to effortlessly tug Uri's pack from the stack of bags and boxes, thrusting it into his grasp.

"I know where every single thing is, Uriel, as you well know."

"Yeah, but my point is that the rest of us don't."

"Ooooffff!"

The air whooshed out of Uriel's mouth as his bag impacted none too gently with his solar plexus. Michael stretched out a hand to steady him as the smaller man's weak knee left him stumbling, whilst the assembled group looked on smiling.

SNSNSN

Having relinquished Jo's bag Sam moved quickly, but unobtrusively, closer to Dean. Knowing that Dean's injuries were still raw, he was keen to be sure that his brother was okay and to support him if he needed it. However, he didn't want it to appear like he was trying to eavesdrop on Dean's, seemingly intimate, private conversation with Raphe.

"So it would be best if you hold back from trying to use your gift until we can get some more time together. Healing is an intricate and potentially draining process and could harm you if it goes wrong. You can't go at this like it's an enemy to conquer, Dean. This is something that has awakened within you and if you look to fight it then you will do battle primarily with yourself. Patience and understanding is called for here and I suspect that's not your strongest suit, but you have to work with me on this."

Raphe held the younger man's nervous and slightly embarrassed gaze with his gentle grey eyes and Sam could feel the conflict oozing from his brother. He held his breath waiting to see what response Dean would find and Sam was surprised when Dean stayed silent even though his eyes sparkled with agitated emerald fire. However, Sam was relieved to see that he did not break his eye contact with the older angel or try to flee the discussion. It was testament to the growing bond that his brother had formed with this being and Sam regretted separating them just when Dean, potentially, really needed Raphael's guidance and experience.

"We'll figure out what happened when I healed you. I need to understand why it was so different an experience for you than it has always been for me, but more importantly we need to know what caused you the terrible pain you felt after you healed me."

Dean nodded his drawn face troubled and his pale green eyes downcast, uncertainty and fear leeching from him. The healer angel reached out his elegant hand and rested it carefully on the hunter's un-bandaged forearm, infinite care flowing from that simple touch.

"Dean. I know this is difficult for you."

Sam watched his brother's chest hitch slightly at the angel's words and he knew that Dean was battling a whole host of emotions; anger, fear, disbelief and embarrassment but perhaps also some semblance of pride in his newly awakened skills. Sam wished so much that he could help Dean to feel comfortable in his own, suddenly itchy and unfamiliar, skin.

"You have enormous potential for good in this gift. It is wonderful to heal, Dean, and there are so few of us who are gifted in this way that there is always much to do."

Raphe's sincerity was apparent in his words and his beatific smile and Sam watched Dean's nervousness abate a little as a semblance of a reciprocal smile warmed his pale eyes.

"And I will help you. We will find your path to walk, Dean Winchester. Do not despair."

The angel released Dean's forearm and lifted his hand to the younger man's shoulder. His gaze never left Dean's, and Sam was not surprised to see tears well in the velvet green depths of his brother's eyes, as he stepped forward on slightly shaky legs to embrace the angel.

SNSNSN

Uriel stood at the rear of the SUV and watched Dean and Raphe's exchange without being able to hear their words; but he knew his brother well and he could see Raphe's attachment to, and respect for, the older hunter growing, and it needled Uriel big style.

Not only had Michael persuaded the others to leave him behind but now here was Raphe forming a relationship with one of the guys who was to be his reluctant freaking baby sitter.

He could hear, in his head, Michael's words admonishing him to remember all that the Winchester's had done for them and he knew all that, but at that moment, he was dammed if he didn't dislike Dean Winchester intensely. And yeah, he knew that it was unfair and childish but if he was honest he didn't really give a good god damn!

Contained anger boiled behind his pale, ethereal eyes and he gave into it and indulged himself as his jealousy drove him to seek a suitable, and spectacular, retributive strike.

SNSNSN

Jo felt awkward; not really sure how to say her goodbyes, so she was immensely grateful to Sam when he stooped, unselfconsciously, to hug her in a gentle embrace.

"Be careful, Jo. Stick close to the angels and do what they say."

Jo laughed softly; looking up into Sam's compassionate face and thinking how much like her, incredibly tall, baby brother he now felt.

"Yes, Mom!"

Sam smiled back at her as he slowly released her from his arms.

"Sam, you be careful too and..."

Jo stopped in mid sentence as she felt a soft hand on her back and she was aware, as she turned to its owner, that Sam's hazel eyes were wary.

Uriel's smile was sweet and a little sad and Jo found herself utterly disarmed.

"Can I get one of those before you go?"

The angel opened his arms and Jo smiled as she leaned naively into his warm embrace.

SNSNSN

Dean smiled as Raguel extended his hand toward him, and then groaned good naturedly as the huge angel used the grip to pull him into a bear-hug.

"Look after yourself, Dean."

Raguel squeezed the smaller man in his arms and Dean felt his various fragile injury sites protesting the 'tough love' the angel was metering out.

"I'll try, Raguel..."

Dean wheezed, as Raphe and Michael laughed, both of them used to the 'Goliath' proportions of Raguel's strength.

"And be patient with Uri. He often forgets that he is a divine being and ends up acting like a brat, but his heart is in the right place for all that."

The angel's embrace tightened another notch and Dean groaned for real as his ribs creaked. His eyes beseeched Raphael and Michael as they watched on and Raphe stepped forward and slapped his brother on his broad back.

"Easy there, Raguel. Watch his ribs! You're gonna undo all my good work if you don't leave go."

Raguel's grip eased immediately and Dean swayed on his wobbly legs, feeling multiple divine hands reach to steady him.

"Sorry, Dean. Didn't mean to hurt ya."

Raguel's deep voice rumbled with genuine contrition but also with teasing humour.

"If it's not Michael beating the crap outta ya to start with, its Raphe's healing hurting like a son of a bitch! We angel's must feel like a bit of a mixed blessing for you Winchesters?"

Dean heard Michael suck in a horrified breath at the big angel's disarming words. Dean laughed; his slightly pain-dilated green eyes glancing briefly at Michael's otherworldly violet ones, his look allowing the Prince of Angel's to know that he shared the humour in Raguel's words. Dean tipped his head at Raguel, his pale face alive with humour.

"Well, gotta say Raguel I have had easier introductions than this..."

The angel clamped his hand gently on Dean's uninjured shoulder.

"And then I go compounding your angelic pain fest by squeezing the life outta ya..."

Dean rolled his eyes, his head nodding in time with Raguel's.

"Well good job that Uri's the one gonna be travelling with you and Sam then as he's the only one of us that's not inflicted any actual damage on ya yet."

And the angels and hunters all laughed, as Raguel's prophetic words hung temptingly in the air.

SNSNSN

Part of the embrace was a genuine one of fondness and thanks, showing Uriel's gratitude for Jo's patient, listening ear and if truth be known it also betrayed the real and growing affection the blond angel held for the diminutive huntress. However, as the eyes of the others came to rest on the couple a hint of a wicked smile appeared in Uriel's bright, white eyes and his friendly embrace became something more possessive, designed specifically to infuriate a certain green eyed hunter.

Jo recognised the moment that Uriel's heartfelt embrace became something different and she wriggled in his grip; realising that the eyes of the others were most definitely upon them and that she was being used as a weapon in an emerging angel/hunter pissing contest.

The kiss when it came was not what anyone would have described as a platonic goodbye peck from one concerned friend to another. It was a provocatively obvious and powerful physical demonstration of Uriel's barely contained lust, and moreover of his willingness to enter into heated competition with Jo as the prize.

Part of Jo was irritated beyond measure as she knew that Uriel was doing this to be a bastard and upset Dean, but she could also feel the undisguised reality of the angel's passion and it was an incredible turn on. The angel brought the experience of millennia to his touch and Jo couldn't help but respond to the inappropriate but intense display of powerful emotion.

Dean silently watched the display before him; his face to all intents and purposes implacable, whilst a myriad of conflicting emotions roiled around in his brain. He knew that Uri's publically impassioned display was substantially for his benefit; and whilst he would die rather than show it, he wanted nothing more than to smack the supercilious divine being onto his wise-ass butt!

However, Dean could see that, whilst the publicly demonstrative nature of the embrace was a surprise and possible embarrassment to Jo, it was not, by any means, abhorrent to the tiny huntress.

Her reaction to the angel amplified Dean's already crippling insecurities about Jo's feelings for him and he cursed the heat that seethed through him, finally giving some colour to his pale face.

SNSNSN

Jo pushed hard against Uriel's chest, breaking their kiss and finally forcing him to step back from her. Her face was flushed and she looked at him breathlessly through eyes alive with not only anger but also, hard to disguise, lingering passion.

"What the hell was that, Uriel?"

Jo's question hissed quietly through tight lips and the angel's amused smile did nothing to reduce her annoyance.

"Just saying goodbye."

"Like hell you were!"

Jo's words were angry and unconvinced by Uri's voiced innocence. She glared at him and found herself a little frightened by the cruel streak that lit up Uriel's white eyes.

"Tell me you didn't like it, Jo?"

Jo hated the snarl in Uriel's quiet words and she flinched, dragging her eyes from his, seeking the safety of the gaze of the others.

SNSNSN

Raguel's strong arm landed heavily around Uriel's shoulders; turning him from Jo and towards the waiting Impala. The enormous angels grip was firm to the point of painful and it increased as its recipient went to speak, halting the words in a hastily hissed gasp of pain.

"Time to go, brother."

Raguel's blue eyes flashed with reproach and his pinching fingers brooked no refusal as he ushered Uriel away from the awkward situation and toward the car.

SNSNSN

Raphe was intuitively good at pouring healing balm on a difficult situation and he took control of the boiling emotional cauldron that his petulant brother angel's actions had left behind, nodding considerately to Sam to ask for his help as he did.

"Sam, let me restock you with medical supplies before you go. Michael, perhaps you'd help?"

Raphe's voice was light and easy as he took Sam's arm, Michael in tow, and walked the tall hunter away from Dean and Jo to the still open trunk of the SUV, giving the couple at least a semblance of privacy.

Jo stepped closer to Dean and was unsurprised that his face was a purposefully unreadable mask. She had known the hunter long enough to know that his place of safety was deep inside himself and those expressive eyes, that could occasionally offer such a privileged view of his complicated soul, could also be as cold as emerald ice. That was what she saw now: a tightly shuttered and defended fortress that she knew she had made, by her own actions, immediately impenetrable to her hopes. She kicked herself, knowing that she would need time to make amends and coax Dean from his self imposed torment. Time that she did not have, and she desperately regretted that they might now part on such bad terms.

"I'm sorry; I didn't know he was going to..."

She stopped as a flash of undisguised hurt fleeting registered fleetingly on Dean's handsome face.

"Don't, Jo."

Dean looked directly into her eyes and she was suddenly breathless to see the pain she had inflicted on the man before her.

"It's for the best. I'm in no position to offer you anything..."

He paused and Jo could see the conflict in his vulnerable green gaze, could see him retreat from her. She felt tears prickling her eyes; not knowing what she could say to make it better.

"Goodbye, Jo. Be safe."

Jo nodded as tears coursed down her face and Dean turned from her and walked slowly towards the Impala, Sam in close pursuit.

SNSNSN

Sam's long legs caught Dean within a couple of steps and he glanced carefully at his brother's implacable mask.

"You okay?"

"Peachy!"

Dean spat, his eyes were on Uriel where he stood beside the car and his voice was so loaded with irritation that Sam winced. This was going to be one hell of a road trip.

Sam watched as a flicker of pain crossed his brother's face and he drew his arm tighter in to his body. Dean was much better since Raphe's healing but Sam knew his residual injuries would have been more than enough to knock most men off their feet for days.

"You gonna want to take the back seat? It's a fair way to Bobby's and you could lie down and be more comfortable?"

Dean halted his slow progression and turned his head swiftly towards Sam, the sudden pull on his barely healed shoulder sending another fire-flash of pain through his turbulent green eyes.

"And you gonna want some help to pick your ass up off the floor when I knock it down there, Sammy?"

Dean snarked and Sam raised his hands in placation as a small smile crossed his face.

"Just asking, bro."

Sam laughed and was relieved to see the slightest hint of a smile quiver Dean's lips.

"So we'll put our guest in the back?"

Sam's chin tipped towards the waiting angel where he leaned, feigning nonchalance, against the Old Chevy's side.

"Sammy, right now you can put him in the freaking trunk for all I care! Let's just get this god damned show on the road."

SNSNSN

The journey to Bobby's was a relatively silent one. Raguel had clearly had a few choice words with Uri and, though the angel scowled frequently from his place in the back seat, he said very little, responding only when Sam spoke directly to him. He sat with his injured leg braced on the seat and, though he would never admit it, he found the Impala to be a surprisingly comfortable ride.

Dean's position was considerably less comfortable and Sam knew that his brother was making huge efforts to not show his distress in front of their passenger. Dean had managed well for the first hour or so but then Sam had begun to notice his increasingly frequent shifts of position, and of late the soft gasps of pain that accompanied his fidgeting. Sam watched from the corner of his eye as Dean struggled to sit himself a bit more upright, using the door handle for leverage. It was a struggle and Sam found himself holding his breath and casting his eyes to the mirror to see if Uriel had noticed before risking drawing attention to Dean's plight by speaking.

Dean was regretting giving the back seat to Uri as now he just wanted to be able to lie flat and try to sleep. Sitting upright compressed his aching ribs and the Impala's seats were hard on his still sore shoulder. He found himself cradling his left arm into his body with his right in an effort to comfort the gnawing pain that needled him but, after an hour or more of travelling, that was now doing little to help. He grabbed for the door handle with his good right hand; trying to ease his body forward without jarring his shoulder. It didn't really work though as hunching forward compressed his ribs further, sending sharp pains through his shaky body, and he was forced to let go of the door handle and rush his hand to the source of the pain. He flopped back against the seat compounding his struggle by painfully jarring his fragile shoulder.

"Crap!"

Dean's soft, breathless voice punctuated the air and Sam's steadying hand shifted from the wheel to rest against his chest, carefully holding him back against the seat as he pulled the Impala to a halt. He shifted the car into park and swivelled in his seat, his gentle hand still preventing Dean's movement.

"How you doing, Dean?"

Dean's eyes were momentarily closed, squeezed tight against waves of resurging pain and Sam watched his chest hitch in and out as he gasped in inadequate shallow breathes. Sam waited for the inevitable 'M'okay, Sammy' so was amazed and distressed when it didn't come.

"H...hurts...S...Sam."

Dean's words were formed around hiccups of pain as his dilated green eyes fluttered open and Sam felt his own blood pressure rise in response to Dean the unusually honest answer.

"If I get you some pain killers will you take them?"

Sam could feel Dean's heart pounding against his steadying hand and he felt the hiccup in of air that fuelled Dean's whisper.

"Y...Yeah..."

Sam nodded and had started to make for the first aid kit in the Impala's trunk when Uri's arm appeared from the rear of the car. His hand was palm up holding two small, white tablets. Sam turned his head to face the angel.

"They're the best, Sam. Only thing that kills the pain in my knee. Raphe 'acquired' them for me. Might knock him out though."

Sam considered for a moment and then nodded, scooping the drugs from Uri's hand and accepting too the proffered bottle of water.

"Here, Dean."

Sam moved his hand down to cover Dean's where it held his damaged left arm into his body; allowing him to let go and take the pills in his shaky fingers before swallowing them hastily.

"You wanna lie down? It might be easier on your shoulder?"

Dean shook his head, his barely open eyes flicking to the rear of the car indicating to Sam his reluctance to show his weakness in front of Uriel. Sam pursed his lips but nodded reluctantly knowing it had taken enough for Dean to accept the meds from the angel.

"Good now, Sam."

Dean's words were slurred and Sam watched his brother's long lashes start to flutter closing as sleep claimed him in response to the narcotics he'd helped him swallow.

"He always this stubborn?"

Uri's question needled Sam and he swivelled to face the angel, his look of irritation quickly wiping the smile of off Uriel's face.

"Yeah, Uriel, he's often this stubborn. Especially when he's in more pain than most people ever experience and that pain is a direct consequence of his reluctant association with freaking archangels!"

Uriel raised his hands in submission and the rest of the journey was taken in a pressured silence.

Chapter ends.


	9. Chapter 9

**So Not An Angel!**

Chapter Nine - Road Trip

The drive across country had been uneventful but long and tiring and Sam could feel his eyelids threatening to droop; lulled by the rhythmic tide of the blacktop as the miles flowed effortlessly beneath the Impala's wheels. He cracked the window a little and shivered as the cold air rushed in to sting his gritty eyes and he glanced in the rear view mirror at their reluctant passenger. Uriel was sprawled across the back seat; his head rolling gently with the soft cadence of the passing miles, his handsome face peaceful in slumber and his arms slack and relaxed at his sides. Sam watched him for a second or two, making sure that the breeze from the open window had not woken him, before shifting his worried gaze inevitably back to his brother.

Dean, too, was sleeping, though that was as much to do with the narcotic effect of the pain killers Uriel had supplied as it was to his obvious exhaustion. He looked considerably less comfortable than the softly snoring angel, and Sam wished for the millionth time in his life that Dean was less stubborn, so he could have accepted relegation to the back seat and its relative comfort. As it was he was propped awkwardly against the passenger door of the old car, his left arm held fast at the wrist with his right hand, thus pulling his injured shoulder defensively into body. His positioning screamed of discomfort; his lean body all rigidly held angles, in stark contrast to the organic fluidity of the angel's relaxed slouch. Sam was suddenly angry that the sleeping blond being should have peace whilst Dean clearly suffered even as he slept.

He glanced back to the road and noted the passing street sign confirming that he still had 100 miles to drive to reach the safety of Bobby's innocuous looking, but impressively defended, fortress. Stifling a yawn, Sam knew he was gonna need to push some serious caffeine if he was gonna make it without falling asleep at the wheel. He smiled softly then imagining Dean teasing him good naturedly for his love of 'girly', frothy mocha-chocha-skinny-latte's as he insisted on calling them. He could see his teasingly bright green eyes alive with humour as he snarked out his well worn argument, explaining yet again that 'real' men drink their coffee scaldingly hot, excessively black and absolutely, categorically froth free.

Sam glanced back at his disturbingly quiescent sibling and nodded unconsciously; allowing Dean to win the unvoiced argument this time; knowing that nothing but a power kick of caffeine was going to suffice on this occasion and fervently wishing that Dean was actually awake and laughing at his minor victory.

The lights of the approaching gas station drew Sam's eyes back to the road and he cruised the old Chevy into the neon oasis, allowing the throaty purr of her lovingly restored engine to rumble over the quiet of the night.

SNSNSN

Dean shifted fitfully in his seat, his dreams terrifying in their sinister potential, whilst outwardly he appeared to drift in the seeming tranquillity of a deep slumber. His body was unnaturally still; chemically quietened by Uriel's suspiciously acquired opiates but his mind churned with images of fear and his closed eyes searched fruitlessly for the light.

_In the soft, drugged darkness Dean sat again at the table in Tartarus' pristine lounge with the smiling daemon facing him across the polished beech wood surface, Mikey's dark eyes commanding his pale green ones. The familiar stench of blood hung in the air, though none was evident, and in his dream Dean glanced down at his left hand, the one Mikey had pierced through with his exquisite blade, and marvelled at its intact, uninjured nature__._

In the car Sam started as Dean murmured in his sleep and he watched as the older hunter slid his hand from his right wrist to the bandaged palm, his fingers worrying at the grubby bandages as if the wound was bothering him. He continued to mumble but Sam couldn't make out anything intelligible and he cautiously returned his eyes to the road, unaware of his brother's subliminal torments, as Dean appeared to settle to sleep again.

"_It's so good to be back with you, Dean, and so kind of Uriel to provide the drugs that lower your guard so that we might finally have this conversation. I've tried so many times to have one of our delightful little chats but you play so hard to get. I have had to bide my time patiently; not something that comes easily to me." _

_Mikey's voice held genuine delight and Dean felt his breathing race as familiar fear coursed adrenaline through his system. The daemon laughed. _

"_I don't suppose my sentiment is reciprocated though, is it?" _

_Dean's pallor told Mikey that he was correct and the hunter's silent dream voice stuttered in confusion as he responded._

"_B...But the angels sent you back to Hell, bound you there? How can you...we..." _

_There was disbelief in Dean's voice and Mikey revelled in the distress he caused. _

"_Indeed they did and it's as vile and degenerate a place as I remember it being. I don't appreciate my return stay one bit and soon I will show you in person how unhappy you have made me, Dean."_

"_You can't harm me, you're bound..."_

_The daemon's laughter reverberated painfully in Dean's head, crushing his already less than confident retort._

"_Dean, Dean! Do you really believe that you will be able to keep me here?"_

_The daemon leaned across the table towards Dean, making to touch Dean's hand and the hunter pulled his arm away as if scalded by the daemon's proximity. Mikey smiled his delight and rested his elegantly manicured hands on the pale blond wood, the venom of his despised incarceration dripping from his lips. Dean's heart pumped a little harder, and sweat began to __itch as it trickled from his spiky blond hair. Mikey smiled as he noted the hunter's growing disquiet and he continued, his light voice belying his evil eyes._

"_Anyway, take some credit, Dean. Without your intervention on the side of the angels, I would have triumphed over them all and fulfilled my plans. It was your strength, enhancing theirs, that exiled me to this foul perdition. I have so much to thank you for, Dean, and such amounts of time to think of a way of doing that."_

_The daemon's obsidian eyes flashed with the hatred of millennia and Dean's dreaming body shifted back in its chair; seeking the safety of that small distance__._

"_I've been trying to get back to share that with you for a while now. Have you felt me trying to come to you, Dean?"_

_Mikey's face was alive with the depravity and evil that Dean had endured for the long hours of his torture at Tartarus and the hunter shivered__involuntarily;__ his body recalling the agonies the daemon had wrought upon him._

"_Ah!"_

_Mikey's voice dripped with excitement._

"_I see you have. It's been hard though, Dean. Normally I can infiltrate and crush a human mind in seconds. But you? It has taken me days to find my way back to you and then only when your pain was so great that you couldn't man your defences against me as well as hold back your screams. __But I imagine that, unlike me, you__ won't want to dwell for too long on your memories of our time together, so let me explain my future plans for us."_

_Mikey licked his lips, his gaze never leaving Dean's, delighting in the ill disguised terror he saw in the young hunter's eyes. _

"_Awh, don't look so horrified, Dean. You knew we had unfinished business and I'd be__back,__ but don't let me hurt your feelings. It's not that I didn't enjoy your screams too."_

SNSNSN

The ceasing of the rhythmic motion of the car gentled Uriel to wakefulness and Sam watched as the white blond spikes of the angels hair appeared above the black leather of the seat back, his face still crumpled with sleep. The angel yawned and smiled absently at Sam as he scratched at his ribs.

"We here, Sam?"

"Shhhhh!"

Sam hushed Uriel; his eyes indicating Dean's sleeping form, and the angel nodded apologetically as Sam spoke quietly.

"No, we got about 100 miles to go to Bobby's but I need coffee."

The angel nodded again, and moved as if to exit the car, only to have Sam place a halting hand on his arm.

"Where you going?"

Uriel pointed to the service station's neon.

"I was gonna help you with the coffees, maybe stretch my legs..."

He flexed his injured leg experimentally as he spoke and was relieved to find it felt pretty good. He looked back to Sam and stopped as the younger hunter's face registered distress and realisation dawned with the sleepy angel.

"But I can stay with Dean till you come back, if you want me to..."

Sam smiled his hazel eyes wide with gratitude, his voice barely a whisper as his eyes watched his brother's awkwardly sleeping form.

"It's just that I don't want to leave him on his own in the car..."

Uriel nodded, yawning again, his easy smile preventing Sam's further justification.

"Sure thing, Sam, I'll watch him. Get me some coffee though will ya? And something to eat: I'm starving."

Sam smiled, Uriel's relaxed acceptance reminding him suddenly of Dean. He laughed a little as he questioned.

"Pie?"

Uriel's face creased in confusion at Sam's mirth.

"Sure, Sam. Whatever looks good. Or candy."

Sam nodded and exited the car, closing the door as quietly as the old Chevy would allow.

SNSNSN

The simple squeak of the Impala's door was all that Dean needed to flee from the horror of his unconscious conversation with Mikey and find a route back to reality and he stirred, fighting to push away the images of the daemon and to find safety. As he ran from the dream images he heard Mikey's mocking laughter ringing in his ears.

"_Soon, Dean. Soon we will be together again."_

The daemon's soft voice drifted through his consciousness. It was like swimming through syrup and Dean moaned softly as he tried to open his sticky eyes, seeking the one thing that would ground him, anchor him in safety. Sam.

Uriel heard the soft noises from the hunter and leaned forward from the back of the car to check on Dean. The hunter was stirring and Uriel could see pain in his stiff, jerky movements. He glanced into the gas station, hoping that Sam would be quick.

Dean finally managed to open his eyes and blink a few times to clear the grittiness before his focus sharpened. The driver's seat was empty and Dean felt his levels of panic immediately beginning to rise as he realised Sam was not where he had expected him to be.

"S...Sam?"

The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it and he was conscious of the degree of panic it presented. He felt a hand land softly on his shoulder and he spun stiffly, and too quickly, to the rear seat even as he wriggled from beneath its grip. The motion ground his aching ribs and he involuntarily hiccupped in a soft gasp as he found Uriel's face.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you."

Uri's face was angular in the harsh neon glow and his white eyes shone with an otherworldliness that reminded Dean that he was an ethereal being and not human. It did nothing to quell the feeling of disorientation that Dean was battling with and he felt his breathing increase further towards hyperventilation.

"Wh...where...S...Sam?"

He coughed as he forced the words out, pressing his hand to his aching ribs and trying to lean his sore shoulder away from the seat back as he continued to twist on the bench seat to see the angel.

"He's just inside, Dean. He's getting some coffee and something to eat."

The angel watched as news of his brother eased the stressed out hunter's breathing a small bit, and he watched Dean's slightly dilated eyes swivel to the bright lights of the store, searching for Sam's familiar face.

It took seconds for Dean to spot Sam's huge frame moving through the aisles, coffee cups in hand and Dean sighed audibly as his brother's hazel eyes locked with his desperate green gaze. As they made eye contact Sam's brows pinched together, his unspoken message saying 'you ok?' and Dean nodded, relief flowing across his pale face.

"He'll only be a minute."

Uriel kept his voice soft and quiet; understanding that Dean was off pitch and was pissed that he was the one seeing it. Dean nodded, coughing against the breath wheezing through his lungs.

"You want some water?"

Uriel raised the small, half empty bottle at his side and reached it carefully towards Dean's right hand, smiling as the hunter took hold of it and then kicking himself as he realised that there was no way, with his damaged arm and hand, that Dean could open the cap.

"Sorry."

He reached back over and twisted off the lid, placing the now open bottle into the grateful hunter's hand.

Dean swallowed a mouthful of the tepid water, only realising how thirsty he was as it coated his throat. He raised the bottle again and then realised that it was almost all gone. He stopped and offered it back to Uriel, watching as the angel smiled and shook his head.

"Finish it. I think Sam's getting some more."

At mention of his brother the angel saw Dean's eyes automatically flick towards the store, checking for Sam's reassuring presence as he raised the bottle to his lips. The water was cool as he tipped his head back to drink and Dean twisted his neck trying to ease the kinks there, but the movement pulled on his sutured shoulder and Uriel watched as he stiffened against the pain.

"Are you okay?"

Uriel watched his innocent question unintentionally irritate his companion.

"I'm fine."

Dean's body language did not match his words and Uriel had less experience than Sam in sensing when to back off.

"You don't look fine." The angel ignored the fiery emerald eyes that spoke a warning to him. "In fact you look..."

"I said I'm fine, Uriel." Dean's voice, although slightly breathy, made it clear that he did not wish to discuss the angel's view of his health.

"Ok, but all I was going to say was..."

His observation was cut off as the door swung open and Sam's large frame eased itself into the Impala, his hands full of trays of coffee cups and bags of food and Dean's relief was immediately palpable.

Sam could sense the tension in the atmosphere as he carefully handed a paper cup of scalding coffee into the hand which reached impatiently from the rear seat, all the while expertly assessing his brother's condition with a sweep of his intuitive eyes. He took in the rigidly held body and slight tremor as Dean reached toward him for the proffered coffee, not to mention the increasing pallor highlighting the smudges of grey beneath Dean's tired eyes.

"You want something to eat?"

Sam's question was directed at Dean, and his eyes did not leave his brother even as he deposited a bag of food into the eager hand that appeared again from the back seat.

Dean shook his head as, even though his stomach was rumbling and churning he had every indication that anything he put in his stomach would be quick to make a repeat visit, and he really did not fancy throwing up at the moment.

"You should try and eat something, Dean." Sam opened the lid on the box of Krispy Kremes he had placed on the seat between them and indicated Dean's favourite honey glazed. Dean looked at the usually tempting morsel, part of him relishing its sweet stickiness, and realised how light headed he really felt. He closed his eyes against the sudden wave of nausea that washed over him, grateful that Sam was watching him and made a grab for the scalding coffee in his hand before it ended up all over him as his grip on the cup wavered. As it was a good measure of it slopped onto his bandaged left hand, scalding his exposed skin and staining the grubby bandages further.

Sam placed the coffee cup on the dash and moved his hand quickly to Dean's chest, easing him back against the seat and placing his other hand to his forehead to check for fever. Dean was warm but not overly hot and Sam moved his hand away as his brother's eyes fluttered open.

"M'okay, Sam."

Dean's voice was quiet and Sam looked into eyes closing with tiredness and pain. He felt Dean touch his hand where it pressed against his chest, holding him steady.

"Lemme go."

"You're wobbly, Dean, I don't want you to pitch over..."

Sam was worried; he had always known the journey to Bobby's was potentially going to be an ordeal for Dean, but he had hoped Dean would just be able to sleep the journey away.

"I know..." Dean pushed weakly against Sam's big hand, his eyes dilated so wide that they appeared huge. "But...you're hurting me!"

Sam immediately released the pressure on Dean's chest and watched as his brother rubbed gingerly at his aching ribs. "Sorry, Dean, I didn't realise..."

"OK, Sammy. No harm done."

Dean's voice was increasingly sleepy and Sam watched as his head rolled back against the soft leather of the seat, long lashes sweeping over his pale jade eyes.

"You wanna swap seats, Dean?" Uriel's question was mouthed around a bite of burger but was not unkindly meant, and Sam threw a quick smile of thanks for the offer to the angel. He knew, however, what the answer would be even as Dean mumbled it.

"No, Uriel, I don't. And if you get grease on my baby you'll be walking to Bobby's, you understand?" He rolled his head further around so he could see Uriel and the angel meekly nodded his agreement as Sam tried to quickly bury his amused grin. "What's so funny?"

Dean's tight smile told Sam that he knew damn well what was funny and it was a relief to see the Dean that enjoyed getting one over on the cocky angel was returning. However, as he shifted towards Sam, looking slightly more alert and enjoying their shared joke, his shoulder grated noisily and Dean found himself sucking in air to keep from crying out.

"Crap!"

The expletive was soft and breathless but vehemently meant, and Sam watched as Dean raised his good hand to try and ease the obvious intense pain in his shoulder.

"Lemme see."

Sam carefully eased aside Dean's jacket and lowered the zip of the hoody, gently checking the tight strapping and particularly the dressing covering the sutured wound that sliced across Dean's collarbone. He was relieved to see little blood soiling the dressing but still Dean twitched and groaned tightly as Sam's fingers probed "Enough, Sam."

Dean hadn't the strength to push Sam away but he rested his hand on his brother's and Sam stopped his examination.

"You want some more painkillers?" Uriel's soft voice drifted to Dean's buzzing ears from the back of the car and he looked at the tiny white pills in the palm that stretched towards him.

Sam took the pills from Uri, smiling his thanks as he handed them to Dean and opened one of the bottles of water he had bought.

"Come on, Dean. They really helped, and don't try telling me you're fine 'cos I can see you're not. They helped you sleep as well. "

Dean couldn't really deny it as he was having difficulty keeping from shaking he hurt so much. Sam was right; the pills had helped, and he was so fed up with being in pain, but something still held him back.

Mikey's dream words returned slowly to him but made him tremble violently as they did. "_It's so good to be back with you, Dean, and so kind of Uriel to provide the drugs that lower your guard so that we can finally have this conversation"._

Dean withdrew his hand like he had been stung and curled it into his body defensively; rejecting the pain relief, knowing that it made him vulnerable to Mikey's return.

Sam watched as Dean's demeanour suddenly changed and he saw real fear come with the prospect of sleep.

"What's wrong, Dean?"

Sam stretched out his hands and took gentle hold of Dean's upper arms. He could feel the wholesale shaking as he made contact, and he watched as Dean's breathing moved back towards panicky hyperventilation.

"Hey, Bro!"

Dilated green eyes sought Sam's and real fear jumped from older to younger Winchester.

"What is it? Tell me and I can help you."

Dean tried to get his breath but images of Mikey and blood, pain and despair replaced Sam's face. He raised his shaking hand to his eyes trying to push away what he saw but the coppery stench of his own spilt blood filled his nose.

Sam glanced briefly at Uriel knowing that Dean so didn't want this to happen in front of the wise ass angel and was relieved to see compassion and understanding on the angel's face. Sam looked back at his brother and put his hand to Dean's, pulling it from his eyes.

"Dean. Look at me. Tell me what's wrong?"

Dean shifted his eyes to Sam's and sucked in a slow breath.

"Dream..."

The word came out on a gasp of air and Sam breathed deliberately slowly, trying to pace Dean's staccato rhythm to his own.

"You had a dream?"

"Yeah...no...Hell...l don't know... what it was, Sam."

Sam nodded; his face tense as he tried to be calm for Dean. Uriel's voice was soft and unobtrusive when he spoke.

"It was Belial wasn't it, Dean?"

Both brothers looked to the angel, confusion on their faces. Uriel focussed on Dean across the divide of the Impala's bench seat.

"Belial, Dean. You know, Mikey? Mikey came to you in a dream?"

Dean nodded, but there was still confusion on his face. "Not sure ...dream. Felt...real!"

Uriel nodded. "I think Belial has some connection to you."

Dean's eyes widened. It was one thing to think it himself and another entirely to have a freaking archangel confirm his suspicions.

Sam's voice carried an outraged stridence and Uriel swivelled his head towards the driver's seat and the younger Winchester. "How?"

"I'm not sure, maybe through his close proximity to Dean whilst he held him at Tartarus." Uriel shrugged his shoulders, glancing back at Dean and noting the deathly pallor of the hunter. "Or maybe..."

Sam's dark eyes bored into Uriel's bright white, his voice doing nothing to hide how pissed he was at the angel's musings. "What? Maybe what, Uriel?"

The angel held the gaze though it was fierce and intimidating. "Maybe it's the binding that in some way has tied Dean to Belial."

Sam nodded and glanced at Dean, who managed a wheezy shrug of his shoulders. "So, is it a dream?" Sam watched the angel's face intently as Uriel rested his chin on his hands on the black leather of the seatback.

"Good question, Sam. I'm a bit out of my depth here."

"Out of your depth?"

Sam's voice was incredulous. "You're an archangel, Uriel!"

The angel raised his head, white eyes shining. "Yeah, Sam. An angel, not freaking God! I don't know everything and it's not every day that 4 angels and a ...whatever Dean is, have bound a major daemon before."

Sam looked at his brother expecting to see rage and was surprised that he found a quizzical, but tolerant, raised eyebrow.

"He's...got a ...point."

Sam noted that Dean's breathing was a little more even and he nodded reluctantly. Uriel looked at Dean then.

"So, has he come to you whenever you have slept?"

Dean shook his head. "No. Only a few times, mostly...when I was in real pain"

Sam and Uriel nodded and Dean smiled to see their geek brains clicking on the problem in unison.

"And this time, when he came to you, something was different?"

Dean nodded nervously at the angel's accurate intuition. "He said something this time..."

Both men looked at Dean, similar looks of curiosity on their very different faces.

Dean nodded to Uriel.

"Mikey...I mean Belial, said that it was good of you to give me the drugs that made me drop my barriers enough to let him come to me."

"Ah, so he needs you to be out of it; either drugged or in such pain that you can't focus, to get to you."

Uri looked at Dean and the hunter nodded slowly, confirming the angel's theory. Sam raised his hand and dropped the pain pills he was still holding back onto the angel's outstretched palm.

"So, I'm guessing you're not gonna be taking these anytime soon?"

Dean laughed a little, a pained sound tinged with exhaustion.

"Well, I might want 'em but I sure as hell ain't risking taking 'em!"

"So now what do we do?"

Uriel's question was a genuine one and Sam looked at Dean as he responded on his injured brother's behalf. Dean had his head resting on the seatback and his eyes were dilated with obvious pain, his arms wrapped about him as he trembled.

"We get to Bobby's, on regular pain killers and coffee."

Dean nodded and Sam accepted the first aid kit Uriel handed him from the backseat, rummaging through it for their Tylenol. He handed the tablets to Dean, waiting until he placed them in his mouth and then passed the half empty cup of coffee to him and watched as he chugged the medication down with serious levels of caffeine.

"And once we get there we figure this out and shut that bastard up for good."

The angel nodded.

"I'll talk to Raphael; he knows more about daemon binding than the rest of us do. He'll know what to do."

Dean rolled his head to Uriel. "Thank you." His exhausted thanks were genuinely meant and the angel nodded, smiling cautiously as Sam started the car and cruised back onto the endless blacktop. The growl of the engine soothed Dean's tattered nerves and he smiled, running his hand over the shiny chrome fittings on the interior of the door, the coolness of the metal feeling good against his skin.

Sam watched his brother and recognised the rituals that were his Winchester trauma survival tools. Time to kick them all in. Sam turned his head to the rear seat and spotted the box he was looking for, resting beside the angel, next to the medical supplies.

"Uri, pass me the box with the cassettes in."

The angel picked the box up and went to hand it to Sam but paused intrigued, and started to sort through the box, snorting his derision at the mullet rock playlist, only to be called up short by the combined voices of the Winchester brothers.

"Hey, driver picks the music and, angel shuts his cakehole!"

Chapter ends


	10. Chapter 10

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 10 Freaking Arch-Angels!

Bobby heard the familiar growl of the Impala's engine and he closed the book on ancient Aztec deities he was reading, rising stiffly to go greet his guests. The Winchester boys were always welcome at his outwardly unprepossessing, but highly fortified home, and his grizzled old face broke into a smile as he opened the porch door to see Sam uncoiling his lanky body from the driver's seat. Had he not known already from Sam's brief call, that as usual, they were in trouble, he would have been able to determine it from the fact that Sam was driving the old Chevy. It required something akin to near death to prevent Dean from taking the wheel and Bobby's anxiety hiked another notch when he realised that Sam was hastening to the passenger side and that Dean hadn't even managed to open the door. Damn, if the boy mustn't have gone and gotten himself smashed up worse than usual! He hurried down the steps to Sam's side as the younger hunter carefully eased open the door.

Bobby's first impression of the elder Winchester was that he had seen healthier looking individuals in the average morgue freezer drawer and he looked briefly at Sam seeing all his own anxieties mirrored in his wide brown hazel eyes.

"Well, Dean, you look like a whole truck load of crap."

Dean's pale face almost cracked a smile, but he knew he had only about enough energy left for one activity currently and if he was gonna talk, smiling was a luxury he couldn't afford.

"Good...see...ya too."

Dean's words were slurred and the effort of speaking made his head ache so he closed his eyes.

"We need to get him inside."

Bobby's soft voice held a serious edge and Sam nodded as he bent towards his trembling brother.

"Lemme help you, Sam."

The soft voice from the rear of the car was totally unexpected and Bobby started a little as the rear door of the Impala opened and Uriel emerged, only to wobble a little as his fragile leg threatened to give way. He threw his hand out catching the top of the car for stability as his startlingly pale eyes swept over his surroundings.

Sam smiled quickly at the angel and then glanced to Bobby, realising he hadn't even mentioned that they were bringing Uriel with them, let alone who he was.

"Bobby..."

Sam faltered, it was all so complex to explain and all he really wanted was to get Dean settled somewhere where he looked less like he was the principal attraction at his own funeral. He shook his head and sighed, tipping his head from the bemused looking old hunter to the angel.

"Meet Uriel. I explain it all later but can we just get Dean..."

Bobby held up his hand and reached into the rear of the car snatching up the angel's cane that he had noticed, and thrusting it into Uri's hand, he spoke urgently.

"You go open the door, son. Sam and I'll give Dean a hand up."

His tone brooked no argument and Uriel nodded once before limping as fast as he could for the porch steps.

"So how you wanna do this, Sam? Where's he hurting worse?"

Bobby was scratching his temple, his filthy baseball cap bobbing, as he looked at Dean's slumped form. Sam smiled, absolutely grateful for Bobby's pragmatic no-nonsense approach.

"It's his left shoulder and his ribs principally, Bobby."

Sam was in close to the open door of the car as he spoke, and he crouched so he was level with his drowsy brother.

"I'll ease him up, and then if he can stand well take one side each and walk him in slow?"

He looked up into Bobby's dark blue eyes, noting a healthy scepticism about the standing and walking bit of his plan.

"Okay, Sam."

Sam smiled, relived to have a plan in place and he turned his attention fully to Dean, gearing up for the undoubtedly painful implementation of the scheme.

"Dean?"

Sam placed his hand on his brother's forearm where it lay tightly pressed to his ribs and he was rewarded with a gasp of pain as Dean's green eyes shot open. Sam could see it took a moment for Dean to focus his gaze and he waited, his hand gently contacting his brother's cold skin, whilst he was sure Dean knew where he was.

"Gotta get ya out of the car now."

Dean nodded, and Sam watched him struggle to muster all the strength he has remaining for the coming ordeal.

"Might need...some help, Sammy."

Dean smiled weakly and Sam felt his chest tighten in response to his brother's rarely voice admission that he needed anyone.

"No sweat, Dean. Look this'll be easier if you let me lead, Okay?"

Sam paused, expecting the usual protestations of independence but none came.

"Sure, Sam, just tell me what to do."

Bobby listened to the soft exchange between these men that he had know virtually all their lives and felt the lump in his throat swell to the size of a pumpkin. He knew how much it took for Dean, the eternal protector, to admit his weakness and he felt privileged to be allowed in on their intimate conversation.

"Don't do anything, bro. Just try and relax as much as ya can and I'll ease you out of there."

As he was speaking Sam braced his knee on the door sill and reached into the passenger side of the old car. He leaned in towards Dean and gently eased him forward so that he could get his long arms around his waist.

Dean felt the world spin as Sam slowly moved him into position and he gritted his teeth against the pain he knew was, for a few minutes, going to get worse. He let his head roll forward until it fell against Sam's prominent collar bone and closed his eyes as nausea threatened to have him hurl.

_Not in the Impala, Dean Winchester! Hold it at least until you're out of the car._

Sam felt Dean's head thump against his shoulder, the prickly spikes of his dirty blond hair brushing against the underside of his chin. He could feel the race of his brother's heart as he pressed him to his own chest and he noted how fast Dean's pumped in comparison to his own.

"How you doing, Dean?"

Sam spoke to the top of his brother's bowed head and he was surprised when he heard a mildly pissed response.

"Quit stalling, Sam! Let's move. Don't want ...get caught...with ya feeling ...up...merchandise."

Sam laughed, marvelling that in spite of the circumstance his brother would try and make a joke to ease his concerns.

"Okay, on three, Dean."

Sam looked up at Bobby who stood ready to catch them both as he spoke.

"Watch his head as I stand up?"

The older hunter nodded his hand hovering to defend Dean from the hard metal of the door frame.

"One...two...three."

Sam tightened the strong muscles in his thighs and, clutching Dean firmly to his chest, began the struggle to extricate his brother from the car.

Dean was smaller than his giant of a brother but he was solid with muscle and lifting him as a dead weight; from an awkward hunched over position, was a feat that made even Sam sweat strong as he was. However, Sam knew that though it might pull on the odd muscle here and there for him, it was nothing compared to the pain it was causing Dean. He pushed the thought away, knowing that it had to be done, and tightened his grip on his brother's torso.

Pulses of fire snagged at every pain receptor Dean possessed and he bit back a cry, trying his best to hold it in knowing that his distress would make the job even harder for Sam. He curled his hand into Sam's jacket, hanging on desperately as the world bucked and span before his wavering vision, telling himself that it'd all be over momentarily.

Bobby rested his hand against the top of Dean's head as Sam swivelled his brother's sore upper body gently out of the car, and stood to his full height. However Dean's legs seemed to have forgotten the drill and Sam could feel his brother's legs buckling as he hung in Sam's tight embrace.

"Dean..."

Sam breathless voice whispered over Dean's hair, cutting through the white fire of pain in his compressed ribs and he started in Sam's arms.

"Try and stand up there, bro."

Dean opened his eyes, his head rolling back, and Sam looked into vast lakes of turbulent green.

"Not sure he's hearing ya, Sam."

Bobby voice betrayed his growing concerns as he crouched down and pulled Dean's feet by his jeans so they were centred under his sagging body and Sam was relieved to feel Dean take some of his weight himself. Bobby rose just in time to hear Dean mumble.

"God, does everyone wanna cop a feel?"

As they stood, Dean's blood pressure stabilised a little and the utter dizziness and crippling nausea settled to merely an undercurrent of imminent projectile vomiting, which was a minor but blessed improvement and Dean was able to look around slightly more alert. He looked at Bobby and smiled drunkenly.

"Nice night, Bobby, but I could murder a cup of that slop you call coffee. Shall we go in?"

Bobby's eyes narrowed dangerously and stepping aside he gestured with his sweeping arm in the general vicinity of his kitchen.

"Already bubbling in the pot for ya, boy!"

Dean tugged on the back on Sam's jacket, and indicating their chest to chest position said.

"Sam, we gonna tango in?"

Sam snickered and carefully turned his brother in his grip until he had Dean's good right arm across his own shoulders and a firm grip of Dean's belt in his left.

"Ready?"

Sam looked at Dean and watched his brother mask his obvious pain and lift his heavy head.

"Just waiting on the starting pistol, Sammy."

Sam shook his head; and taking as much of Dean's as he could started for the porch steps, Bobby bringing up the rear. The level ground was an ordeal in itself as each step that Dean made jarred on screaming nerves and grated at angelic partial reconstructions, but Dean sucked it up and pretended he was actually being some help to their forward motion. However, as he and Sam reached the base of the 6 steps to the porch door, Dean knew the time to fess up had arrived.

"S...Sam..."

Sam stopped short as he was raising his foot to the first step and looked at his sibling. He could see absolute exhaustion on a face so pale that even Dean's lips looked white.

"Can't..."

The word was a whisper and Dean felt Bobby at his side instantly.

"Put your other arm round my shoulders, Dean."

The older man looked expectantly at the failing Winchester but Dean didn't have enough breath to respond and Sam was left to explain.

"He can't, Bobby. We only just got that shoulder re-located and he can't lift it."

Bobby nodded, lifting aside Dean's jacket and seeing that his arm was strapped into his body.

"Huh!"

Bobby huffed, starting to get the measure of how beat up Dean really was.

"OK, then. Sam, Winchester wedgie it is."

Sam laughed and took stronger hold of the waistband of Dean's jeans as Bobby snaked his arm around Dean's waist from the opposite side similarly grasping Dean's waistband and between them they, as gently as possible, toted Dean by his pants up the steps and into the house.

SNSNSN

Uriel opened the door; as the determined but puffing trio of hunters crested the steps and approached the house, and he could tell that this was a scenario that had been played out before perhaps on numerous occasions. He marvelled at the casual ease by which each man played his part and he realised that all three were doing there damndest to minimise both the physical pain of the one of them injured and the mental anguish of all. It was an interesting interplay, the man injured bearing at least as much responsibility for downplaying his pain, as the others took to ignore his temporary weakness. The angel smiled thinking what a field day someone could have on the psychology of this complex relationship - Raphe would love it, and was only and was jarred back to reality of the situation when Bobby called his name. He let go the porch door and hobbled quickly behind them as Bobby called his name again.

"What?"

Bobby stared into Uriel's white eyes and felt something akin to a shudder of excitement run through him. The name was right and the eye colour and the boys had brought worse to his doorstep before now but still, no, couldn't be! He shook his head and focussed on the task in hand.

"Uriel, clear the stuff off that chair."

The older hunter tipped his head toward the office chair parked at the dining table with its mismatched companions. Like the table it was mounded with books, documents and the various paraphernalia of supernatural hunting and Uri parked his cane and hurriedly cleared the chair as Bobby and Sam all but carried Dean the last few steps.

Dean hung in Sam and Bobby's embrace and he knew that if either one of them were to let go of him at this moment he would crumple to the floor like a filleted chicken. He started to laugh at the image but quickly rethought the action as his wheezing breath threatened to turn to coughing and he could imagine how painful a single cough was likely to be. Thus he was immensely grateful when they lowered him gently into the old office chair and he was able to contemplate again a world that might one day stop spinning nauseatingly on its axis.

Bobby watched then as Sam, breathless as he was quickly cleared a second chair and indicated the limping angel to the chair before collapsing himself on a thick stack of ancient grimoires that bellied up to the table. Bobby reached for the coffee pot and poured the dark steaming nectar into thick mugs that he placed down before each man, pausing only to pass cream and sugar to Sam before he finally joined then.

Dean was immensely happy that his chair was the one with arms as it allowed him to slump casually against the handy restraints and thus prevent what he was sure would be an inelegant and inappropriate slide to the floor. That said though the floor, in the immediate absence of a soft fluffy bed, was beginning to look awfully appealing. He lifted his head and noted that sometime during the last few minutes whilst he was working on the complex multitasking that was involved in not throwing up and not shouting a Tourette's like barrage of pain related expletives, someone had landed a mug of restorative java before him. He inhaled the wonderful aroma of fresh coffee and reassured that it might just stay in his belly rather than reappear as wall decoration, stretched his hand toward the mug.

"So..."

Bobby looked from Dean's unfocussed green eyes to Sam's hazel-brown, stopping briefly at disturbingly bright white as he passed.

"I know you boys have to be in a shitload of trouble but you wanna give me a heads up on whether we are expecting any bad guys at the door immediately?"

Sam heaped sugar into Bobby's trademark bitter brew and chased that down with a half a cow of cream, ignoring Bobby's look of disgust and smiling as Uriel copied his move adding the other half cow to his own mug. He took a swig of the sweet and creamy ruination of the heavenly brew and enjoyed the warm slide if it down into his belly, before answering.

"No, Bobby, hopefully nothing following us for now, but we have a whole new set of questions that need some answers and we are gonna need your help for that."

Bobby nodded, watching how hard Dean's hand trembled as he raised the mug to his ghost pale lips.

"Okay, that can all be done in the fullness of time."

Bobby's voice was deliberately calm and neutral as he held Sam's gaze. There was a new lifetime of pain and worry painted on the deep brown landscape there and Bobby knew better than to push when practice had told him that patience won great victories with the Winchester boys. He would however have a more immediate answer for one question and Bobby turned his head slowly towards the stranger at his table, making sure Sam's eyes went with him. Sam took the queue and spoke apologetically.

"Oh, yeah."

Sam lowered his mug and looked for Bobby to Uriel and back again.

"Bobby, this is Uriel. He's...um...travelling with us for a while. We sort of teamed up with him and his brothers and...well...urm...they had to go sort something out and because Uri's knee is a bit of a problem at the moment he opted to stay with us."

Sam glanced quickly at the angel and saw an ironic smirk plastered all over the angular planes of his face, and Sam felt a warm pink flush creeping up his throat as Bobby looked straight through his stuttered story.

"Really, Sam."

Bobby's answer dripped with barely disguised disbelief, and Sam was surprised as Dean suddenly laughed loudly as he shakily placed his half emptied mug on the table.

"You wanna add something there, Dean?"

Dean nodded, nodding at his mug indicating he'd like a top up and Bobby leaned for the pot, pouring as the sleepy hunter began to speak.

"So, Bobby. I got abducted by a daemon. A bitch of a daemon called Mikey..."

Uriel looked up from his mug, a small cream moustache decorating his upper lip, and interrupted.

"Belial, actually."

Dean nodded to him; waving his hand weakly at his own lip a look of slight disgust on his face, and he continued, as Uriel absently wiped away the froth decoration.

"That's right, Belial and he and I spent a few, for me not so delightful days together."

He paused again, and Bobby looked straight through Dean's defensive snark to see vast plains of new terrors laid out behind his wide emerald eyes.

"Uriel and his brothers helped Sam and Jo to rescue me..."

Bobby held up his hand at that point, pausing Dean, his eyes on Uriel.

"Lemme guess... Your brothers would possibly be...Gabriel, Michael, Azrael, Metatron?"

Uriel smiled at the names of some of his archangel brothers.

"Close but it was Raguel and Raphael actually."

Bobby couldn't help his old eyes widening slightly in disbelief.

"So you're telling me that three archangels..."

Dean butted in.

"Well four technically if you count Michael but then he was possessed by Belial and was beating the crap outta me as Mikey, so I guess you wouldn't count him into the saving me bit."

Dean looked at Sam for confirmation and the younger hunter nodded, pursing his lips thoughtfully, as he nursed his coffee mug.

"But Michael did help with the binding..."

Uriel was in midsentence when Bobby spluttered his interruption.

"There was a binding? You bound Belial? An actual binding of a major daemon?"

Uriel nodded, smiling at the older man's excitement, as he continued.

"Well yeah, although if Dean hadn't added his power into the binding it would have failed and..."

"Whoa! Stop right there, boy."

Bobby was on his feet his cap off in his hand as his other hand raked through his straggly hair.

"So you are saying that you are, in fact, an honest to God, freaking archangel?"

Bobby turned and looked directly into Uriel's strange, ethereal eyes and knew the answer even before the being answered.

"Yes, Bobby Singer. I am Uriel, Angel of the Light and keeper of my Lord's mysteries and freaking archangel at your service!"

The angel smiled as he spoke and Bobby felt himself suddenly rather light headed. He had hunted evil for longer than he cared to remember and he knew, with certainty, that things most people held as fiction were in fact grim reality, but in all that time he had never dare let himself believe that pure good existed to counterpoint it. It was a shock to say the least to suddenly find an angel at his kitchen table.

Uriel laughed then, used to the reaction in others who had learned the truth about him but somehow not anticipating it from this cynical old hunter.

"Have I shocked you, Bobby?"

Bobby stared clinging to the stubborn remnants of disbelief and looked over the angel's head first to Sam, who nodded, absolute belief in his hazel eyes, and Bobby felt his heart leap. Finally he looked to Dean who he knew would be the hardest man on Earth to convince of the actual existence of angels, and he saw belief there too and it was so humbling and frankly terrifying that Bobby felt himself wobbling.

Sam was on his feet in an instant and pushed the older man who was a second father to him down onto his chair.

"Look why don't we continue the explanations later when we have all had a chance to let this sink in a bit?"

Sam received nods of varying degrees of certainty and he glanced at the angel searching for a clue for an exit line. Uriel laughed and climbed to his feet.

"So who's hungry?"

Sam nodded realising that, in fact he was starving.

"How 'bout you, Dean? Hungry?"

All eyes turned towards Dean and he pulled himself a bit further upright trying to look less like a broken marionette. He thought about it for a moment and realised that it was days really since he had eaten and so far his coffee had stayed down.

"Yeah, I think I am hungry."

Bobby was on his feet instantly and Dean watched as hunters and a freaking archangel went about making his favourite Macaroni and cheese.

Chapter ends


	11. Chapter 11

**So Not An Angel! By DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 11 Discussions at Bobby's. 

Dean looked down at the steaming plate before him and knew that there was no way on Earth that he was gonna manage a single mouthful of the glutinous, cheesy stodge without it bouncing back real quick to make a colourful, but unwelcome, return visit. In the 25 minutes it had taken Uri and Sam to whip up the culinary delight; Dean had felt his grip on wakefulness slide in direct proportion to his increasing nausea, and now all he wanted to do was sleep, or possibly vomit and then sleep, preferably in that order. He looked up from the table and over to where Sam and Uri were dishing out their own platefuls; his weary eyes full of trepidation and was relieved to find Bobby's compassionate dark blue gaze accurately assessing his sorrowful state.

The older hunter walked the few steps to Dean's side and kindly but silently removed the nausea inducing plate from his line of site, as he addressed the hunter and angel Sumo-Chef combination who were obliviously messing up his kitchen.

"Sam, Uriel."

The 'chef's' turned in unison to Bobby.

"You boys eat, Dean's ready to turn in so we're gonna skip the feast."

Sam's eyes fled to Dean and the older Winchester did his very best to look like he was just a tad over tired and hide the fact that he felt like a truck, no make that a semi, had run repeatedly over him. It was a pointless but well rehearsed exercise and Sam, for his part, pretended that he didn't see the pallor of Dean's face or the weary nodding of his head. Even so, he couldn't help but abandon the pots and move to crouch at his brother's side.

"You need anything?"

Dean looked into his brother's wide, warm hazel eyes and saw the unvoiced concerns in his worried frown.He managed a smile, and for a moment exhaustion caused that simple gesture to roll back the older hunter's omnipresent shutters allowing Sam to see straight into his brother's complex and damaged depths. It was like being instantly sucked into a churning vortex and the turbulence and terror roiling within the outwardly tranquil man was breathtaking. The sudden revelation of his brother's inner turmoil left Sam reeling.

Dean watched through closing lashes as his fleeting inability to mask his brooding disquiet and fear caused Sam's breath to hitch in his chest, and the instinct to calm and comfort saw him speak despite his overwhelming fatigue

"I'm good, Sam...Just tired...Need to sleep. Sorry about dinner, it smelled real good."

Dean's voice was soft as he raised his hand to his brother's forearm, oblivious to the others in the room, his only concern to comfort Sam's look of distress.

"You want me to come with ya?" Sam's words rushed out in a quiet torrent as he held his brother's guileless green gaze.

"Nah, Sam...Don't be such a girl!" Dean smiled, a lopsided, worn out, but genuine smile. "Bobby'll help me."

Dean's eyes found the older man and he moved closer to the brothers in readiness. "I'm good...You guys eat."

As he spoke he raised his arm to Bobby and bit down against the various aches and pains in his still healing body as the old hunter moved in and helped him regain his wobbly footing. Sam nodded doubtfully, his whole demeanour tense as he watched Dean and Bobby slowly make for the door, the older man carefully supporting his brother's unsteady but determined stride. As he reached the door Dean hesitated and placed his hand on the frame, stiffly turning back to find the dark, hazel eyes he knew were watching his retreat.

"Sam?"

Two long strides saw the younger Winchester at his side, supposedly out of earshot of Uriel, though Dean spoke deliberately loudly enough to carry to the blond being at the stove.

"Hey Boys! Enjoy your dinner date and remember as it's a first date...no tongues though, okay?"

Eyes of the palest sparkling jade danced with mischief as their owner snarked, delighting in the look of embarrassment from Sam.

"Jerk."

Smiling, Sam muttered the word discreetly under his breath so as not to have it audible to Uriel. Dean however found an extra decibel to ensure his voice carried as Bobby hastened him from the room.

"Sam, can ya say bitch in front of an angel?"

SNSNSN

The bed nearest the door was already turned down as they entered the room that was so familiar to Dean, from the many nights he and Sam had spent at Bobby's as children. He smiled at the older hunter's thoughtful preparedness and allowed his previously suppressed groan to have a voice as Bobby helped him ease down to sit on the small bed.

His body ached; and he was surprised that it was not just the partially healed wound sites that caused him pain. No, it was everywhere and everything that hurt. In fact Dean was sure that his teeth, and perhaps his hair too, were throbbing in time to the sleepy fluttering of his closing eyes.

He sat on the bed, looking down at his boots and thinking how much effort it was gonna be to unlace them and kick them off. It would be so much easier to gently fall over sideways and just sleep. Probably for a few days!

Bobby watched the internal debate the exhausted hunter was having and smiled. In his gruff but loving way he recalled hundreds of images of this man before him, as a child, sitting on that same bed. He had looked on so many times as younger Dean had cared for Sam when he was hurt or bored, afraid, tired or lonely for John, and it was strange for Bobby to see the eternal defender that Dean consistently was, needing help.

Bobby moved slowly; his powerful body wasting no energy as he dropped gently to sit on Sam's bed, facing the elder Winchester.

"It'd be quicker and easier for us both, Dean, if ya let me help."

The older man's voice was quiet but still Dean started as the words leapt into his foggy consciousness and sleepy green eyes jerked open in embarrassment.

"Sorry, Bobby."

Dean's voice was a tired whisper in the still room and the old hunter shook his head slightly as he leaned forward and shucked scruffy boots and mismatched socks for him, before straightening up again.

The older man contemplated the younger then and, to his experienced eyes, the miasma of physical pain was instantly superseded by the poorly contained anxiety that oozed from the gently trembling man. He took in the haunted look that widened Dean's green eyes until they returned him to the frightened child that had so infrequently allowed Bobby to sooth him to sleep and the older man felt his heart lurch at the fear that reverberated in the hurt hunter before him.

"So, Dean, is it just the angel freaking ya out or is there something else?"

The younger man laughed a little then despite the fact that, as always, Bobby's intuitive question cut through his cleverly constructed facade, instantly collapsing his defensive walls to piles of rubble.

"You don't think it's fair to be a bit freaked by the presence of an archangel then, Bobby?"

Dean's words were a little defensive and the older man could hear a self conscious waver in his tired voice. Bobby looked directly into the turbulent green ocean before him and commanded those eyes, preventing their retreat.

"Oh yeah, Dean." The watchful man growled gently. "I think it's totally appropriate to be awed in the presence of an actual messenger of God."

Bobby watched as his words of absolute belief in the authenticity of their... pasta eating guest frightened Dean even further than he was already. It was as if the tired hunter had in some way expected, or perhaps wanted, Bobby to challenge what he now irrefutably knew to be true. Bobby saw the hastily sucked back gasp of air that highlighted Dean's final admission to himself that the beings purporting to be angels were, in fact ...angels, and the older man was flattered that his opinion would count for so much with the hunter before him. He leaned in closer from his seat on Sam's bed facing the elder Winchester, knowing that the belief he had confirmed for the hunter was eating away at him.

"So tell me, Dean? How is it that you can believe in evil without batting an eyelid, but the concept of absolute good and the gain it might bring us in this fight, scares the pants off ya?"

Dean looked into his surrogate father's wise blue eyes and felt the unbidden tears that defined his irrational terror surge for freedom. He blinked hard and swallowed down against the tremor that threatened to make his voice a trembling parody of his usual confident drawl.

"It's not that I don't believe, Bobby..."

His voice cracked and the older hunter watched as a lifetime of fear; an eternity of nightmares made hideous reality, battered at Dean's weary mind and spirit.

"It's just that...we fight so hard, Bobby... but there's always so much evil and ... there are so few of us that what we do hardly makes a dent."

Green eyes large with the enormity of responsibility he constantly carried; suddenly crystalline with tears, rose to find the older man's before he continued.

"I've always understood that it was them against us, Bobby; that it was a bare knuckle fight. But Dad taught me to fight. I'm good at fighting..."

He could hear the fierce pride in the hastily tumbling words of the softly swaying man before him and he acknowledged Dean's fervent statement with a series of deep nods, designed to calm and confirm his understanding.

"But surely knowing that there are powerful beings created for good must make all this easier?"

Bobby's words were soft as he reached out his large hand and carefully laid it on Dean's un-bandaged shoulder. He wanted to reassure with a touch, to still and quiet some of the unmerciful cavorting daemons that plagued the boy.

"No, you don't understand..."

Agitation imparted movement and Dean made to rise from the bed; the ever present urge to be in motion calling to him, as adrenaline offered him the temporary energy to pace. However, he managed only a few inches before sore ribs, a burning shoulder and Bobby's restraining hand forced him back down to the soft mattress.

"So explain for me, Dean..."

Bobby fought to hold the eyes that sought to flee from his questioning gaze, his calm authority undeniable, and the exhausted man visibly slumped as he acquiesced to the demand for explanation.

"I'm..."

Dean's voice was all breathless anxiety and Bobby held himself still; trying not to escalate the all too apparent encroaching panic his companion obviously felt. He raised an eyebrow, urging the reticent man 'go on' and Dean sucked in a hasty breath and gabbled on.

"I'm...scared, Bobby."

Shame gave his pale face an unwelcome fever flush of colour and he rushed on, the need to finish now he had started, overwhelming.

"I can understand violence and the fight against what's out there. Hell, maybe I even relish it. I know what I need to do and I do it. But I don't...understand this."

The younger man looked to his mentor and friend and saw incomprehension, and his face fell knowing that he was not making sense.

"What's to understand, boy? At last there are beings of light to help us banish the darkness, surely that's a blessing..?"

Dean shrugged off Bobby's supporting hand his irritation, born of fear, growing.

"No, you don't see..."

He hesitated; struggling to make Bobby understand the insecurities the knowledge of the angels confirmed existence had brought to him. He raised his hand to his face and raked his trembling fingers through the short spikes of dirty blond hair.

"I could keep going when it was just Sam and me against the unnatural things out there..."

He hesitated again; his eyes widening in embarrassment when he realised what he had said, that he had failed to acknowledge the place Bobby had in this war. Here was the man who had never let them down and had always been there to pick them up and put them back together, as best he could, each time they were battered into submission. He smiled a soft, sad apology, his words gently seeking forgiveness for his lack of tact.

"And you of course, Bobby. Hell, we'd have bought the farm long since without you."

The older hunter held his grizzled countenance for a few seconds before relaxing into an understanding smile. It soothed the older Winchester for a few seconds but the eddying tide of disquiet within him was not so easily calmed and Bobby watched as the nervousness returned to his pale face, and he resumed his words where he left off.

"I mean, Sam and me and you against the world of evil out there, I can deal with all that because there's no alternative. I don't expect some..."

His brow creased in concentration as he sought for the right word and when he found it, it only served to deepen the look of distress and growing anger on his pale face.

"...Grace filled being who's gonna come down and save our sorry asses. I long since gave up expecting there to be some radiant creature of absolute good to conquer the freaking evil that has taken so much from us all."

He paused, the trauma of his words stealing his breath and spiking his heart rate. The older hunter stayed silent seeing that there was more to spew forth now the gates had opened and knowing that there were few circumstances in which this Winchester would ever allow himself to be laid so bare.

"So now here are these...damned angels of god, divine emissaries of peace and love and they're real and involved up to the tips of their pure white wings in this awful fight and..."

Dean faltered; sucking in a shaky breath as his body trembled with barely contained rage, and the older man winced at the depth of feeling in his passionate words. He made to respond only to have eyes of tortured green instantly silence him.

"And Bobby...even with them here and in the fight on our side, there are daemons everywhere. Bobby, there are actual angels on our side and we're still losing!"

Rage gave way to exhaustion on the finality of that observation and the look of despair and fear on Dean's face chilled the older man to the bone as he realised that finding the presence of God on Earth had rocked this Winchester to his crumbling foundations. If there had never been hope of divine salvation Bobby knew that Dean would have found the strength to fight to the death against all the regiments of Hell. Anything to protect Sammy.

Now however, knowing that there might have been hope; that true good was a tangible reality but that it was far from a foregone conclusion that it would triumph, was devastating to Dean. It was as if hope had been shown to him only to be ripped away again from his frantically grasping hands.

Bobby sighed, struggling to begin to think how he could offer any reassurance that wouldn't simply be condescending platitude. Dean was right that these angels were strong but clearly not infallible. They were fierce, ethereal warriors in the infinite battle for the supremacy of good over evil but they were not omniscient or impervious to the corruption and pain their daemon brothers meted out.

He looked into the despairing velvet-green gaze before him and hastened on, eager, no desperate, to reassure Dean, and maybe himself too.

"But they bound him, Dean. They bound Belial and returned him to hell. If they can do that with one daemon they can subdue others and maybe, gradually, we'll beat them?"

Bobby watched the words register with the logical part of Dean's brain and momentarily impact comfortingly there, but the positive gain was quickly outpaced by even greater escalating panic. The mention of the daemon drained the blood from the young hunter's face and Bobby watched the sway of his tired body pick up like the twitching cadence of an ill timed metronome.

Dean closed his tired eyes, feeling moisture gather there as tears of frustration and fear beaded his long lashes. The darkness returned him to the cellar of 'My Tartarus' and the glory and indescribable terror of the binding ceremony. He could feel again the obsidian fury of the daemon Mikey's hatred and the pitiable desperation of Uriel's need to free his beloved brother Michael. All that was compounded with the overwhelming physical agony he had felt from his hideous injuries and the devastation of his breaking heart as he knew he was leaving Sam alone and un-defended in an unwinnable fight.

He felt again the super heated rush of evil that had seared the breath in his lungs as power had eddied forward and back between the daemon and the angels. He remembered the fire of redemption surging through his broken body as he had bonded with the angels and added his, until then unacknowledged, energy to the binding. Remembrance and acceptance that without him the angels would have failed, overwhelmed Dean and he felt consciousness slipping from him as the periphery of his vision blurred and bile rose in his throat to choke him. He found himself pitching forward into Bobby's waiting arms as the world lost all its colour and blackness claimed him.

The older man watched as memories assaulted the boy before him, shaking him to his trembling core and robbing him of his residual ability to bar the fear in his heart from finding expression in his brimming jade eyes. He could only imagine the terrors Dean had endured at the hands of the daemon and he longed to give solace to the courageous hunter, but he had no words. No words to reassure him that, even with the angels, their fight would be a god given victory and that daemon kind would not triumph. And thus, he settled for catching the collapsing man as he closed his eyes and succumbed to exhaustion and fear.

SNSNSN

Uriel watched the younger Winchester toy absently with the food on his plate as his hazel eyes flickered repeatedly to the door that his brother and the older hunter had exited through, and the angel was impressed by the wealth of concern that shone in Sam's sensitive face. It made him homesick for his own brothers and Uriel found his usually omni-present appetite disappear, as his stomach twisted into nervous knots. He put his fork down, worries making his gut twitch and roll as he spoke softly.

"He'll be okay, Sam."

Deep brown eyes encountered sparkling white and Sam smiled a shy, somewhat sad smile. "I know. It's just..." Sam sighed and Uriel found himself wanting to know what Sam's "just" was about. The angel remained silent and just raised his eyebrow questioningly, giving Sam permission to talk. "He always looks out for me. Dean, I mean. Dean always looks out for me, so when he's hurt I feel..."

Sam broke off, not really sure why he was telling the angel all this. He knew his brother would ill appreciate his frank exchange with the suddenly, surprisingly, quiet being but he felt the need to talk and Uriel seemed more than willing to listen.

"You feel...?"

Uriel's sharp, bright gaze invited Sam's musings and the younger Winchester shrugged and allowed vent to his bottled up feelings.

"I feel... lost when he's hurting like he is now. I can patch him up physically, Uri. Hell, we've spent our entire lives stitching each other back together after one injury or another."

Sam grimaced briefly thinking of all the times he had been the reluctant reconstructor when Dean's sundered flesh had required suturing, how many pints of blood he had mopped from tears and grazes, or cracked bones he had nursed through to healing.

The angel watched as a myriad of graphic memories commanded Sam's concentration and he found himself wondering at the life these two men had endured. He held his tongue and sat in easy silence as he allowed Sam the space to contemplate.

Sam's returning voice was soft with pride and admiration when he spoke again.

"He doesn't complain, you know?"

Uriel quirked his head to the side in continued question.

"Dean never complains however badly he's injured. For him it's just part of the job and has to be tolerated. It embarrasses him to be hurt, and he gets angry with himself that he's not perfect enough to never get a scratch."

Sam's annoyed laugh barked out suddenly and Uriel's colourless eyes flared wide with surprise.

"Yeah, thinks he should be able to walk through fire and not get burned and knowing he can't irritates the hell out of him. I have given up trying to convince him that no-one can do what we do and come out unscathed but he's so, so stubborn sometimes. Hell, not even angels can do that..."

Sam paused, logic arresting emotion as he looked at the actual example of etheric being before him.

"Can they?"

Sam's curious gaze pinned Uriel and the angel cracked an easy grin as he raised his cane in evidence and rubbed gently at his ruined knee in response. Sam smiled gently in apology.

"Oh yeah..."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment or two, each of the so different men lost in their own contemplations.

"He will mend you know, Sam."

The angel's glance tipped to the door, and Sam's eyes once again followed his brother's shaky exit route.

"I know...he always has...well, more or less."

Uri could see uncertainty in the young hunter's soft words and he found himself wanting to reassure this sincere young man.

"Raphael is a healer of extraordinary skills, Sam."

Sam nodded, hearing the pride and respect in the angel's voice.

"I believe you, Uriel. I can see how much Raphe achieved to relieve his pain in such a short time. It's just a pity we had to go our separate ways just now, really..."

Sam stopped, silently kicking himself as he watched Uriel's face fall and he realised he had placed his gigantic foot well and truly in his mouth. The last thing he needed to do was remind his companion that he was separated from his brothers.

"I'm sorry, Uriel. I didn't mean to..."

The angel held up his hand, silencing Sam.

"It's okay. Kinda come to terms with it now. I do understand why Michael chose to leave me behind you know. It's just..."

He paused, looking into Sam's eyes, assessing how much to say to this relative stranger. The wealth of understanding he saw there encouraged him on.

"We're stronger together. The four of us, you know..? We augment each other's strengths and so when we're separated it's like part of me is missing."

He stopped, checking Sam for the slightest indication that he found the confidence that he was sharing in any way incomprehensible, or worse, amusing.

Sam's head unconsciously nodded as the angel spoke; the sentiments he was relaying resonating so fiercely with his own strongly held beliefs, and the understanding the angel saw there spurred him on further.

"I just wanna be there and do my part. I don't always need defending and Michael is sometimes so my 'big brother' that I want to strangle him!"

Uriel laughed then and Sam smiled in response.

"I know what you mean. Dean forgets sometimes that I'm..."

The angel jumped in, his warm laughter filling the space between them.

"A grown up?"

Sam laughed in return.

"Yeah..."

They paused again, each man slightly self consciously logging the surprising feeling of shared understanding.

"So, it's not just Dean's physical injuries that worry you?"

Uriel's question slipped Sam's smile back into seriousness and he absently fiddled nervously with his abandoned fork as he spoke.

"No, that's the least of it really. He's scared, Uri. Oh he's doing his best to hide it from me. He always does..."

Sam tossed the fork down to clatter against his abandoned plate of congealed mac and cheese.

"God, he's infuriating! He thinks that he has to shield me from..."

Sam's long arms threw wide to emphasize his point, the angel leaning unconsciously back in his seat.

"All this crap!"

Sam's frustrations registered in the flush on his face and the agitation brought a resonant tremor to his lanky frame. There was an irony how like his 'perpetually in motion' brother he looked at that moment, and had he been able to see through his annoyance, he would have laughed at the similarity.

"What do you think scares him?"

The angel's quiet question calmed Sam and he lowered his big hands resting them palm down on the table top as he composed his thoughts. He examined the remnant of reluctance he had in discussing Dean so intimately with the blond angel but releasing his feelings felt cathartic to Sam and he shelved his doubts.

"You do. You 'angels' frighten him."

Uriel found himself squirming at the intensity of Sam's gaze and he opened his mouth to refute his own ability to intimidate, only to be silenced by the hunter's assuredness of feeling. His response became a surprised and somewhat nervous question.

"Why?"

Sam's eyes never left Uriel's luminescent white as he replied with an astonishing frankness that made Uriel feel humbled – a response not easily provoked in the sometimes cynical angel.

"Dean would deny to the grave that he has faith, and in the conservative sense he's absolutely right. He hates 'kiss-ass religion' and staged piety will have him at danger point in a second. He's not your church going, 'say his prayers' kind of a guy."

Sam grinned ferociously at the angel, enjoying the slight look of disquiet on his face and Uriel swallowed hard seeing that Sam could provoke if he so chose.

"But he does have faith. It's within him, he can deny it all he wants to himself but he can't really hide it. It oozes from him. He believes desperately in the need for evil to be vanquished and he pushes himself recklessly to try and achieve that."

Uriel nodded at the truth of Sam's words, which were never at question in his mind.

"So then, if that's true, Sam, why do we scare him? If he believes, albeit perhaps as an unvoiced belief, why is he afraid of us?"

There was a small element of returned challenge in Uriel's words, a spark of delight for a fight, and both hunter and angel knew they were testing each other.

"I think..."

Sam paused, searching for the right words, his eyes narrowing as he sought to express what was still mysterious to him.

"It's not that he's actually scared of you. I think it's more that knowing you has shown him that there is perhaps the possibility of 'light' in the world, as well as the evil we see day to day, and knowing for definite that it's there has shocked him."

Uriel nodded, Sam's honest words touching him deeply.

"And you, Sam?"

The angel looked up into eyes of the deepest hazel brown.

"Do you believe?"

Sam drew in a long breath.

"Yes, Archangel Uriel..."

He teased, but the warmth of his smile was genuine.

"...Messenger of God and Keeper of Mysteries, I have always believed."

Chapter ends.


	12. Chapter 12

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 12 Bandages and Bathing!

Dean slowly opened his eyes and watched silently as the soft morning light painted the drab walls of the bedroom in shifting patterns of dappled gold. There was something about the sensitive tracery of fragile shadow that afforded tranquillity and he basked in the unfamiliar sense of calm. As he drifted in drowsy, semi-wakefulness he found his mind drawn back to the conversation he'd had with Bobby the previous evening. Dean expected embarrassment and disquiet to assault him, as he knew he had disclosed far more than he normally would, but was surprised to find that didn't occur. If anything he felt lighter than he had for a good while, he might even go as far as to say unburdened. It felt good.

He wriggled comfortably beneath the covers; stretching like a cat in a warm sunbeam, and was pleased to find the aches and pains of the previous night had lessened to a large degree. In fact, all in all, he felt pretty good considering the last few days, well, few weeks really. He yawned and realised that the slight grumbling noise he heard was his stomach and he smiled at how hungry he was. He had felt so ill over the last few days that even his favourite foods had seemed like an enemy, so it felt good to know that his appetite was returning.

*OK, time to get this show on the road.*

All he needed now was a hot shower, a bottomless supply of Bobby's rich, smoky black coffee and lots and lots of breakfast in that pleasant and satisfying order.

He sat up slowly, grunting slightly as the effects of gravity reawakened the aching in his healing body to a small degree. However the pain was much more bearable and he slid his legs cautiously, but triumphantly, out of bed to make reassuring contact with the cool wood of the painted floor.

Dean was relieved to find that Bobby had discretely left him in his boxers when he had put him to bed; but otherwise he was naked apart from the multiple dressings and strapping on his various injuries. He looked at the less than white bandages with some obvious distaste, thinking they needed to come off if he was gonna shower effectively.

He really needed some help and he glanced over at the softly snoring giant sprawled across the bed next to his, smiling gently as he did. Dean knew that Sam was as exhausted as he and understood that the semblance of precious safety that Bobby's afforded had allowed Sam a much needed moment of relaxation and peace. Consequently, his gigantic brother was draped across the small single bed, ungainly limbs flung to the corners of the thin mattress as he snored softly in his sleep. Dean was pleased to see Sam's face softened by his deep and untroubled slumbers, so much so that he was reluctant to wake him, and he resolved to attend to the problem of shedding the bandages himself.

He started with his right forearm, holding it in towards his left hand, which was effectively pinned to his body by the heavy strapping at his shoulder. He struggled quietly for a few minutes, finally managing to grab hold of the end of the dressing. That achieved, Dean pulled his right arm back sharply, wrenched the bandage end free and wriggled his hand to encourage the binding to unwrap.

Sam had done a nice job on the suturing and the wound Mikey's sacrificial dagger had incised was clean looking, if still a little inflamed. He flexed his fingers experimentally and, though they pulled on the long line of sutures that ran from elbow to wrist, none of them hurt too badly.

It was going to be a trickier process, though, freeing himself from the heavy strapping that supported his left shoulder and continued all the way down his broken ribs. Tight bandages overlay dressings that protected the mass of sutures extending from his collar bone to the tip of his shoulder. They held his arm tightly into his body; limiting the movement at the damaged joint so much that he had little use of that hand at all. He glanced again at Sam recognising how much easier it would be just to shout for help, but when had he ever been able to do that? He stared at his brother and the soft snufflings that murmured from the sleeping Sasquatch increased his resolve and he redoubled his silent efforts to find the end of the bandage wrapping his ribs.

snSNsn

Sam jerked awake; his mind instantly alert for signs of distress from Dean and his sticky eyes tracked quickly to the seated figure on the adjacent bed. He was surprised to see the elder Winchester up and active under his own steam and shocked, maybe even a little pissed, that the stubborn hunter seemed to be messing with the carefully applied raft of dressings. His sibling's clumsy self efforts were obviously causing some discomfort and Sam listened to the soft sighs of pain issuing quietly from Dean's slightly parted, full lips, as he blinked the sleep from his wide eyes.

"Dean. What the hell are you doing?"

Sam rose up like a wild haired zombie from the tangle of pillows and bed covers as he spoke, and Dean started in response to the unanticipated movement.

"Jeeze, Sammy!"

Dean's voice betrayed his surprise blended with a hint of pissy accusation, and his green eyes shone with sprinkles of fiery gold from the early morning sunlight, none of which particularly registered with still sleepy Sam.

"I thought you were asleep..."

Dean's statement was slightly petulant and Sam's lips curled ever so slightly towards a smile. He yawned widely, rubbing at his gritty eyes and wriggling his long legs free of the tangle of bedclothes.

"I was until I heard you moaning..."

"I wasn't moaning..."

Dean answered hurriedly and then paused, as Sam's knowing hazel gaze held him, staring at the older hunter's hand where it was pulling at the now loosened end of the wrappings that circled his chest. Dean's eyes widened guiltily and he self consciously lowered his hand to his lap.

"Why are you undoing all my good work?"

Sam tipped his head towards the various bandages; those already discarded messily on the floor and those now wilfully unwrapping from his contrite looking, older brother's body, as Dean tried to pretend he knew nothing about how or why that was occurring.

Sam held the slightly uncomfortable silence until Dean's avoidance strategies failed entirely; to be replaced with a sheepish smile that was so refreshing to see after all they had gone through, that Sam found himself thoroughly disarmed.

"I wanted a shower, Dude! Can't shower with all this crap all over me so..."

Sam shifted to the edge of his bed so he was sitting almost knee to knee with his older brother.

"So you decided to pull it all off haphazardly, no doubt tearing out my sutures as you went along? You couldn't just ask for help?"

Sam's hand's reached for his brother's right arm, determined to check the wound that Dean had already denuded of its protective shield and the twitching Winchester submitted resolutely. He knew that there was no way Sam would proceed and help him with the removal of the other dressings if he was not satisfied that Dean's hasty actions had not inflicted further damage.

The wound was pink with the healthy granulatory response of early healing and Sam grunted his approval as he carefully checked the row of sutures closing the precisely incised wound. He had done a good job on the slash that Mikey had torn the length of Dean's inner forearm and Sam let go his brother's arm and smiled as he looked Dean in the eye.

"It's doing well, Bro. You're gonna have a hell of a scar there though."

Dean smiled and Sam was almost convinced that it was a smile of genuine amusement.

"OK, Sammy. Chicks dig sc..."

Sam held his huge hand up, halting Dean's flippant and anticipated response.

"I know, Dean. Chicks dig scars, huh?"

Dean nodded, placing the unravelling edge of the bandage that wrapped his torso and shoulder into Sam's hand. The younger Winchester sighed but took hold of the grubby fabric as Dean looked encouragingly at him.

"Dean...I wonder if you oughtn't to wait a few days longer? I know Raphe's healing helped a lot but that shoulder's still fragile and I don't want to unstrap it for it to just pop straight back out..."

Dean winced unconsciously as his brother casually said the words 'pop out' and part of him nearly acquiesced to Sam's request for caution. However, timidity was not a Winchester trait and the lure of a hot shower was too much.

"Sam, please."

Dean's voice was both desperate plea and gentle order; and Sam tipped his head to the side part way towards going for puppy dog brown and soulful as a counter measure, when Dean spoke again.

"Sam. It's been a week since I showered. I've been beaten half to death, tortured, dragged from pillar to post by a deranged bastard of a daemon, and had god knows what freaky power awakened in me by, of all things, archangels. I'm covered in sweat, dirt, blood and ...well Sam, not to put too fine a point on it...I stink like road-kill! Please, Sam. I need a shower."

Sam leaned in closer to his brother making a big deal of inhaling deeply and his eyes widened as he realised his brother's statement was not such an exaggeration. Dean laughed then.

"See what I mean, Dude?"

Sam said nothing but nodded a silent smile and set about unwinding Dean from his bandages.

snSNsn

"Ouch! Steady, Sam."

Dean growled as his brother pulled, none too gently in his opinion, at the gauze pad covering the long and still tender shoulder wound. It had taken almost 20 minutes to get to this point and Dean was beginning to regret his insistence that Sam remove all the bandages and dressings so he could shower. The absorbent gauze pad covering his tacked together shoulder had stuck to the oozing surface of the puffy tear and tugging it was wrenching the neat line of sutures to the point where they felt like they would burst like tiny, over-ripe watermelons.

"Sorry, but you wanted the dressing's taken down..."

Sam's soft logic did nothing to improve the discomfort of the process and Dean grouched as he wriggled and twitched beneath Sam's gentle ministrations.

"Ouch!"

Dean jerked away from Sam's long, pain inflicting fingers, his own left hand clamping onto the dirty gauze pad at his shoulder, a look of frustration and patience at an end in his fiery emerald eyes.

"Enough Sam, I'll do it myself."

Dean snarked, slapping away any further help from his chastened sibling.

"Well, don't just yank at it..."

Sam wheedled, worrying that his brother's famous lack of patience would result in him requiring another mammoth Winchester needlework session and that was something he so did not want to do just now.

Dean was tempted just to rip the damned thing clean off of the wound, partially because this slow approach was torment but also partly to defy Sam. However, when he went for the 'one quick tug' approach the bolt of white hot heat that lanced down his arm told him that might not be such a fine idea. He stopped and looked at Sam, his expression an amusing dichotomy of pissy-ness and pain.

Sam felt sorry when he saw the underlying discomfort, almost but not quite disguised, behind Dean's fierce green glower.

"Why don't we leave that one for now, Dean? If we get you in the shower I think the dressing will just soak off of the sutures."

Dean grinned and slapped his right hand heavily down on his brother's leg.

"Brilliant, Sam! I knew there was a reason Stanford were so keen to get you. Come on; get me up!"

Sam snorted at the familiar insult and stood, supporting Dean as he rose to his reasonably steady feet, and they headed toward the bathroom, the lure of the shower singing its siren song to the slightly less than fragrant older Winchester.

snSNsn

Uriel realised that Sam and Dean were heading for the exact same place as him as they turned into the corridor leading to Bobby's only bathroom at the exact same time that he placed his hand on the door handle to that very room. It wasn't a difficult call anyway as they too were attired in boxers and rumpled T shirts, carrying clean clothes over their arm and a towel round their neck just as he was.

Well, at least Sam was.

Dean was clad only in boxers, carrying nothing but himself, and even that looked like a bit too heavy a load for him to Uriel's eye. The older man had his head down concentrating on his slow and slightly hesitant gait. The angel could see that Sam was casually hanging back waiting to offer any support that might be needed, his attention totally on his brother. Their progress was slow but all the same; for someone who had virtually to be carried from the car upon their arrival just the night before, Dean was doing pretty well and Uriel couldn't help but be impressed with the hunter's re-cooperative capabilities.

However the situation presented the angel with a difficult dilemma. Even though, technically, he had reached the bathroom first and therefore had dibbs on the one shower in the small dwelling, he knew he really ought to give up first rights to the clearly determined older Winchester.

Problem was, he didn't want to and Uriel was not good at doing things he didn't want to do.

Maybe he could just slip quickly into the bathroom and pretend that he hadn't realised where the brothers were heading, or pretend he hadn't seen the pair of them and get in first? He paused; his hand on the door handle, the dilemma pushing him into uncharacteristic prevarication, and that was his downfall.

"Saaaam...!"

Dean's voice was a breathless plea and Sam assumed it was a call for support from his still wobbly sibling. However, when he tried to take Dean's elbow the older man shook him off with a growl and stabbed his finger irritably down the corridor. Sam followed the gesture and realised that Dean wasn't asking for help at all but was drawing his attention to the fact that the angel was in danger of achieving the nirvana of a hot shower before he did. Sam glanced back to fiery green eyes that said, 'get him outta my way, Sam. That shower so has my name on it!', and the tall hunter shot the angel a glance that to anyone else would have been a more than adequate warning.

Uriel knew that, without a doubt, the charitable thing to do would be to step aside and let the brothers have the bathroom ahead of him, but he could see from the look of the older Winchester that he was likely not gonna be in and out in 5 minutes. His decision was confounded by the fact that the angel had already smelled the hot coffee, bacon and pancakes Bobby was making in the kitchen, and his stomach was growling a volcanic vibrato accompaniment to his slavering mouth.

Hunger won out over angelic charity and Uriel opted for selfish desire. He flashed the brothers a wicked smile and was flipping the little lock on the inside of the bathroom door just as Dean and Sam reached the barred entry.

Dean lifted his right hand and banged in an irritated fashion on the bathroom door.

"Uriel, open the damn door and get your feathered ass out here this minute!"

Sam winced, hearing the anger in his brother's voice, knowing that this escapade was going to do nothing to improve the Winchester/angel entente cordiale.

"Dean..."

The younger man aimed for placatory softness but knew it had achieved little as his brother's furious emerald gaze rounded on him.

"Make the little winged shit come outta there this minute, Sammy, or I swear there will be one less freaking angel trumpet playing Dixie..."

Dean's tirade was paused involuntarily when breathlessness claimed his voice and Sam couldn't help but smile at his brother's peevishness. Smile that was until he saw the look that heralded imminent violence take up residence on Dean's slightly red face. Sam held his hands up gesturing for patience.

"Steady, Dean..."

He rapped heavily on the door.

"Uriel?"

No response apart from Dean's squeak of pain as his kick at the door resulted in a stubbed toe. Sam steered his hopping brother away from the offending portal and knocked ferociously on the flaky, once white paint.

"Uri, I really think you should..."

The door opened a crack and the angel's face appeared. Sam smiled, pleased that Uri had seen the error of his ways.

"Dean?"

The angel's voice was contrite and the older hunter limped closer to the bathroom door, his face triumphant.

"I'll leave you my conditioner when I'm done so that spiked up mess of yours might look as good as my blond perfection and ..."

The bathroom door was slamming shut on Dean as he moved as swiftly as his cumulative injuries plus his throbbing toe would allow. His sole purpose to eviscerate the smug, simpering angel, and had Sam not locked him in a bear hug he would have launched himself through the closing door and achieved his aim.

As it was, the brothers were left locked in an unhappy embrace as Uriel's victorious laughter filtered through the old pine to complete their humiliation.

"Lemme at him, Sam!"

Dean growled as he wriggled free from Sam's embrace, the younger hunter not daring to grip Dean with the power needed to hold him back for fear of hurting him.

Sam raised his large hand and placed it purposefully against Dean's chest, effectively preventing his approach.

"Leave it, Dean. It's not worth it and you can go next. I don't mind waiting..."

Dean slapped his brother's hand away irritably.

"That's not the point, Sam and you know it isn't."

Green eyes blazed with contained fury and Sam fought hard to ensure a smile came nowhere near his lips as he valued his teeth and did not want them re-arranging with Dean's fist.

They stared at each other for a moment or two before Dean snorted in disgusted defeat.

"Angels suck, Sam!"

Sam nodded in relief.

"Archangel, technically."

Sam mused absently, rearranging the towel that was sliding from his shoulder, as the sound of water cascading from a shower head drifted through the door.

Bobby's head appeared around the kitchen door, a stack of pancakes on a plate in his hand.

"Boys, don't forget. The plumbing is a bit freaky...gotta turn the shower all the way towards cold to get a drip of hot water outta her."

Dean smiled an evil smile and watched his own delight mirrored on Sam's laughing face.

"Sure will, Bobby, thanks for the heads up."

Bobby smiled and ducked back to his culinary duties as Dean and Sam listened with delight to the shrieks of an archangel suddenly deluged with a shower of freezing cold water.

Chapter Ends


	13. Chapter 13

**So Not An Angel! By DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 13 Breakfast Discussions

"Morning, boys."

Bobby's greeting was warm and enthusiastic as Sam and Dean entered his small and homely kitchen and made their way slowly to their familiar seats at the table. He was pleased to see Dean up on his feet and looking slightly less fragile than he had when the trio had arrived. He still technically looked like someone who had wrestled a grizzly and come off worse but at least he was on his own feet rather than being carried.

"Morning, Bobby."

Both boys smiled as Sam fussed annoyingly around his brother, pulling out his chair and trying to ease him down next to the amused archangel, much to Dean's chagrin. It was clear that the elder Winchester was not keen on sharing a table with their shower stealing guest but the lure of breakfast was strong. The battle of wills continued for a short while; and Bobby watched with carefully disguised concern, and a little amusement, as Dean eventually succumbed and, batting his brother's solicitous hands away, dropped a little heavier than planned onto the chair next to Uriel. The movement jarred his wounds and the slightest hiss of pain escaped his lips, drawing Sam's concerned hand to his back.

"You OK? Is it your shoulder? I told you it still needs strapping up..."

Dean's face was a study in the none too subtle art of warning-off but Sam had been rendered immune by a lifetime of his brother's automatic 'M'OK' response and he continued to plough his dangerous furrow.

"Take your shirt off and I'll get the..."

"Sam..."

Dean's voice was a quiet, dangerous growl and Uriel started at how, in that one word, the hunter was so like Michael telling him off for some transgression. It made him ache for his brothers, and he raised his empty coffee mug to his lips in embarrassment to cover the look of loss that he knew he had failed to hide. He was beginning to feel very comfortable in the company of the hunters but it only lessened his loneliness, it didn't allow him to forget it entirely.

The coffee pot appeared unbidden in his eye line, shaking him from his reverie, and Uriel gratefully offered his mug to be refilled. He looked up into Bobby's face to nod his thanks and he knew in that glance that the older man knew exactly his thoughts and feelings. The angel felt his throat constrict as understanding and compassion for him was played out in that care worn but kind face, and he swallowed hard as the hunter nodded in return as he stepped away.

"I'm just offering..."

Sam tried again, his hand moving to rest lightly on Dean's recently dislocated shoulder as he spoke. The unanticipated touch made Dean start and lurch away from his brother's hand like he had been stung and Sam was horrified to understand the degree of discomfort the wound still offered and know that he had provoked it.

"I'm sorry, Dean..."

"It's OK, Sammy. I'm OK...but just leave it will you. Let's just damn well eat. "

Green eyes flashed with silent fire and Sam nodded, finally recognising when he was defeated and, folding his long legs under the table, sat down on the chair next to his brother.

Bobby placed bacon, pancakes and eggs down in front of the brothers and cocked an eyebrow at the angel; questioning whether the relatively slight looking creature could possibly eat a third helping. Uri smiled and nodded in delight as he found himself rewarded with yet more delicious breakfast manor.

Bobby added coffee to the repast and then joined his guests at the large table as they ate hungrily.

Dean kept his gaze carefully on his plate as he toyed with his eggs, the food still not holding quite its usual delight for him but the strategy was principally one of attempted invisibility and it was chiefly Bobby's patiently waiting eyes that he was keen to dodge.

Of course Bobby knew it, he'd seen all of Dean's tactics so many times as he'd watched the boys grow up, and the nervous Winchester was no different now he was older than he had been as a child. Emotions were hard for him, always had been but then why would that be a surprise since John had trained him from the age of four to have none? Dean had protected his brother from as much of their bizarre life as he could and therefore Sam had always been more willing to tackle things that needed dealing with head on. Bobby knew all that and saw what the older boy was up to. And he knew he'd better get up front and in Dean's face if he were gonna get any answers, after all the hunter had honed this skill, as he had all his others, to perfection and was now a master of avoidance given the opportunity.

"So, who's gonna fill me in on what the hell the daemon wanted with ya...and why you guys are all twisted up in knots? And that applies especially to you, Dean."

The older man floated the question, paused momentarily and then chased it through with the kicker.

"Oh and if you bound it like ya said ya did and it's tucked up all safe and warm in Hades, then why are you guys obviously still running so scared that you came to hole up here?"

Bobby's questions hung in the air and he watched as forks halted in mid climb to waiting mouths as Sam and Uriel's eyes turned to his. However, jade green was noticeably absent from the ocular gathering and Dean squirmed as Bobby's patient gaze bored into his downcast blond spikes.

He so did not want to discuss daemons, or their idea of a fun time, or the after effects of binding the bastards. It was so far from the top of his Subjects for Breakfast Discussion list that painting the Impala pink would have been preferable. He kept his head down and silently implored Bobby to drop the subject, even whilst knowing full well that he wouldn't.

Sam glanced at his brother and recognised the waves of discomfort radiating from him. Dean liked to be centre of attention only on his own terms, only when his complex defensive walls were well in place and he could be 'Dean Winchester' – consummate hunter. He didn't enjoy being in the limelight when the discussion might breach those walls and allow his true feelings to be exposed for all to see.

Sam knew that Bobby's was one of the few places on earth that Dean could relax and not be always on his guard and he didn't want anything to jeopardise that but he knew Bobby deserved an explanation. After all they had just descended on him, as they had many times in the past, and as always the hunter had welcomed them in without question. He put down his fork and after glancing at Uriel, who nodded his approval, began to give Bobby a detailed resume of the last eventful week.

wWw

Bobby looked from Sam to Uriel and shook his head slowly, struggling to take in all that had happened. He had listened to Sam's words, and Uriel's, as the angel had contributed his take on the facts readily, and was reeling with all that had happened.

He was acutely conscious however that Dean had barely looked up during the depiction of events. And even now the elder Winchester's eyes were resolutely downcast.

"So, Dean."

Guarded and obviously nervous emerald eyes reluctantly lifted and contacted Bobby's.

"You wanna tell me about the whole healing deal?"

Bobby watched as Dean wrestled his reluctance to talk about himself with his obligation to inform his old friend, and obligation won out with a small sigh.

"I don't know much more than they've told ya, Bobby. I think something happened during the binding. It was like something opened up within me..."

He stopped; a look that was a mixture of amazement and terror barely disguised on his still pale face. It was as if, in speaking the words, he was allowing some sort of confirmation within himself and that clearly was a dilemma for the hunter.

"And?"

Bobby's voice was gentle, the tone encouraging Dean to continue.

"And when Raphe went to heal me..."

Bobby interrupted confusion on his grizzled face.

"Raphe?"

"He means Raphael, Bobby. Raphe to his friends."

Sam answered and Uriel smiled as he thought of his brother angel.

"You call him Raphe?"

Bobby laughed and Dean nodded, smiling gently at Bobby's delight that an archangel would be so casually referred to.

"He prefers it actually."

Uriel chimed in around a mouthful of bacon and toast.

"Says it's less stuffy and well...holy than Raphael..."

Crumbs dusted Dean's arm from the angel's mouth and the hunter brushed distastefully at them as Uri raised an eyebrow at him.

"Michael prefers Michael though, will give you a whole lecture about the need for dignity if ya let him."

Dean let the angel chatter on, hoping that perhaps Bobby's momentary distraction would cancel out this uncomfortable line of enquiry.

It didn't. Bobby saw straight through, and dismissed, the classic Winchester avoidance tactic.

"So, Dean. You were explaining how it felt when Raphe healed you."

Dean's reluctant eyes returned to his friend's. Palest jade implored Bobby to be excused this debate and unflinching blue refused unequivocally.

"It hurt, that's how it felt."

Dean's answer was somewhat petulant, then his face softened and he qualified it.

"I could feel him mending the damage, it was amazing really. Bone just knitting together, skin reforming... but it still hurt."

Bobby nodded, his face compassionate, knowing that 'hurt' to a Winchester was agony to an average man. He turned to Uriel.

"And that's not normal?"

It was a semi rhetorical question as books and papers on angelic gifts were strewn all over the house and Bobby's tired shadowed eyes betrayed the lack of sleep that his hurried nocturnal research had cost him. Uriel nodded as he spoke.

"No, not normal at all."

He glanced at Dean and the hunter met his gaze with a semblance of defiance.

"Raphe's healing is usually wonderful..."

He rubbed his own injured knee unconsciously as he spoke.

"It's his gift from God and not only does it impart physical relief but it heals the soul as well."

Bobby felt his heart pounding in his chest as he listened to the being before him speak. It was unbelievable to him that he was sitting at his own table discussing divine gifts with a messenger of the Lord. It filled him with hope and light and more than a little terror. He knew, with absolute certainty, that Uriel's words were the truth and that only confirmed for him that the consuming evil of his world was the undeniable reality also. He understood with sudden clarity the fear that haunted Dean and had reduced him to tears the evening before and he gripped the table before him as his world pitched and rolled a little.

"You OK, Bobby?"

Sam's hand clasped the older man's wrist, jerking him back to the here and now. He looked up into Sam's earnest face and sucked in a breath.

"Yeah, Sam. I'm good. Just a lot to take in...all this ..."

He hesitated looking for the right words and Dean's soft voice responded for him.

"Angelic shit I think is the term, Bobby!"

Bobby laughed at the hunter's irreverent answer and chalked one up to the Winchesters over the divine.

wWw

Uriel was angry at the disrespectful tone in Dean's voice and even more pissed at the amused jade fire in his sparkling eyes. Retributive strike was called for.

"However, Bobby. We found out that it ain't just angels, with their associated 'shit' who can heal, didn't we, Dean? Wanna tell Bob here about your reciprocal healing of Raphe?"

There was a snarled emphasis on the hunter's name and Sam watched his brother stiffen as Uriel laid bare an area for discussion that Dean clearly would rather not. He winced seeing pain flash across his older sibling's face as the tension returned determinedly to his damaged body, jarring his wounds.

Seconds ticked by in silence and Dean's anger turned to discomfort and then embarrassment, and though he tried to hide it from all in the room it oozed from him to hang in the air. It fell to Bobby cut the oppressive silence.

"So this was the 'opening up' within ya?"

He commanded Dean's squirming eyes with a calm and non-judgemental air and Sam watched his brother's reluctance to speak dissolve in light of that unconditional approval.

"Yeah...I guess so. It was like I suddenly knew how to do it...how to...mend something that was broken, protect it...care for it..."

Bobby's softly nodding head spoke nothing but understanding and Sam watched entranced as Dean's face broke into the slightest smile.

"I don't know why you should be so surprised, Dean..."

The older hunter rose and retrieved an old and worn book from the kitchen cabinet as he spoke. He returned to his seat laying the book before him and the three looked to the foxed and tattered parchment of the book as Bobby continued.

"Hasn't it always been your job to protect..."

He glanced up at Sam and the younger Winchester nodded in acknowledgement of his brother's perpetual role of protector and guardian. He looked to his brother and smiled as Dean wriggled as the reluctant focus of the conversation. His eyes said *god this is purgatory, Sam. Get me outta this!* and Sam's smile widened in spite of himself. Bobby continued.

"And throughout time there have been 'Warrior Healers', and often they have been associated directly with angels."

He tapped the page marked in the old tome before them and looked up to the pale blond being before him for confirmation.

Uriel smiled, admiring the hunter's acuity.

"True, Bobby. I have known a few in my time."

The angel cast his gaze to the elder Winchester, a new level of inquiry and appraisal evident in his face, and Sam watched Dean's discomfort hike another notch or two.

"So, Bobby?"

Eye's shifted from the older to the younger as Sam tried to draw attention from his overburdened sibling.

"What ya found out about these 'Warrior Healers'?"

He nodded his head back toward the book before them; his gaze briefly catching Dean's and noted the smile of appreciation there.

"Well, there's not a whole heap of information really. Just bits here and there. There is a reference in this text though."

Bobby squinted at the small, faded type tracing his finger across the brittle parchment.

"Really it just alludes to a number of individuals who have some association, kinship maybe, with the angels. They have powers given to them by their particular angel. In fact it seems their powers are dependent on the presence and proximity of their angel and always seems to mirror the gift of the angel. Sorta like...as God gives gifts to the divine beings..."

He tipped his head to Uriel and the angel smirked, revelling in his divinity and he nudged Dean in an annoyingly smug manner. The hunter rolled his eyes and shook his head which made both Sam and Bobby laugh.

"So...as God gives powers to his angels, each angel can bestow their power, in turn, on a mortal 'Warrior Healer'. Well, that's my take on it anyway."

Bobby paused and they sat in silence for a few moments, each lost in quiet contemplation.

"So?"

Sam's brows were drawn down in concentration, his eyes moving from Bobby to Uriel as he spoke.

"If Dean can heal and he got that power from one of the angel's, it's gotta be Raphe? Raphe's the healer and so it follows Raphael must have given him the power?"

Uriel stared at Sam.

"It would make sense, Sam..."

The interjection was soft and reluctant and Dean's face was noticeably pale as he spoke.

"But he didn't. I would know if it had come from Raphe..."

Uriel turned to the older Winchester as the others looked on in concerned confusion. When he spoke his voice was as soft as Dean's had been and held a melancholy that said he understood that Dean would have welcomed any gift from Raphael.

"No, Dean's right. From what he said when he came back to us after he healed you and felt your healing turn back on him, he was totally surprised and awed that you had such power. He didn't bestow this gift upon you."

Dean nodded, his eyes closing momentarily as he grieved that his association was not with Raphael who he had come to so trust and respect.

"Then who?"

Bobby's voice held a significant element of challenge and the angel understood that this was not a man to irritate if it could be avoided.

"It must have come from one of you?"

Sam's researcher brain had kicked in and the puzzle was an exciting one to be solved.

"How's the power bestowed, Bobby? Is the angel always conscious of doing it?"

Bobby shook his head as he spoke.

"I'm not entirely sure, Sam. It seems that the 'catcher' must open themselves fully to the gift and then there's some sort of transference but I'm pretty sure the angel'll know he'd given it..?"

The older hunter raised his eyes from the book and looked into the fiercely white eyes of the angel, his brow crooked in question.

Uriel leaned forward, resting his chin on his fisted hands.

"Yeah, Bobby. We usually know, well that's how it's always gone down for me, but you're right transference occurs when someone is open totally to acceptance of the gift..."

"So it wasn't you? Or Raguel...it couldn't have been Michael."

There was urgency in Sam's question and Uriel turned his head on his upturned hands, stubble from his cheek scratching on the backs of his fingers as he did, to look at Dean. The shining white eyes were penetrating and Dean shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny.

"No. It wasn't my gift to give, Sam, and I was more concerned in what Dean could give to me. I needed his help to save Michael if you remember."

He spoke to Sam but his gaze remained resolutely on the older Winchester. As he continued his words became addressed to the recipient of his icy stare.

"I could sense something in you...something unlike anything I have known before..."

He reached for the right words but could not find them and Sam watched his brother withdraw further into himself at the angel's revelations.

"But still, the most likely time that Dean's power was transferred was...?"

Uriel's eyebrows rose in response to Sam's question and the younger hunter started, a look of growing concern on his face, as he whispered.

"At the 'binding'. It must have been during the 'binding'."

The angel nodded and Sam continued.

"So if it wasn't you, or Raphe or Raguel..?"

The question hung in the air, the possible answer too horrific to contemplate. Seconds ticked by and finally Sam's voice broke the silence.

"It couldn't be Mikey?"

Disbelief dripped from his lips and he glanced rapidly from the angel to the old hunter. He could hear Dean's slightly laboured breathing to his side.

"Why the fuck would..."

He spat the daemon's true name like it was a curse.

"Belial give my brother the gift of healing?"

The question was a challenge to both men and Sam's tone made it clear that they better have a good reason if they wanted to suggest to him that it was, in fact, the case. Neither hunter nor angel answered.

"No..."

Sam laughed, a disbelieving sound that would have been wholly credible were it not for the note of nervousness that accompanied it.

"It couldn't be Mikey... It just couldn't..?"

wWw

Sam looked to his brother and he saw fear. Dean was trying very hard to hide it but Sam knew him too well and he could see the panicked dilation of his eyes and the rapid pace of his shallow breathing. He stretched his hand towards Dean's where they lay on the table before him, only to have his brother sharply withdraw from his touch, and Sam watched in horror as Dean was plunged back into his horrific memories.

Dean was back in the cellar of 'My Tartarus'. He was cold and scared and he hurt, he hurt so badly that he couldn't think straight. All hope was gone for him and he was stripped of every defence he had built, he know there was no end to his agony.

He could see death beckoning to him, and as an end to his pain, it seemed a welcome friend. Yet even in his dying there was no peace for him as Mikey and the angels screamed at him to cleave to one or the other of them. One offered him infinitesimal, yet wholly corrupt power in exchange for everything he held dear, and the triumvirate of God asked for his very life to save their brother.

He wrapped his arms around his trembling body, desperately trying to stop the shaking that tore at his sore ribs and aching shoulder, but the coldness was not corporeal and he continued to tremble.

He remembered the feeling as his life ebbed away. The desperation of his loneliness and loss. He remembered being broken by despair. And then he had felt the light. The transcending, humbling power that had crashed into his being as he had let go all his defences and allowed the angels to see into his soul. It had been both terrible and beautiful and if there had been one moment in his life that this gift might enter him then surely that had been it.

_Belial felt Dean's re-emerging terror with the relish a starving man would attach to a steak dinner. The hunter's concentration on the events of the recent past opened the portal that the binding had imparted between man, angels and daemon and allowed Belial his reconnection. It nourished the consuming evil within him and gave energy to his incarcerated, ethereal form. _

_He pushed aside the revulsion that was Tartarus, the vile dominion of Hades that the angels had forced him back to and looked through obsidian eyes into the ravaged soul of his desired conquest. There was so much pain, so much doubt about this man and it fed him like sweet, sweet nectar to a hummingbird._

_Subtlety was called for if he was to achieve his aim this time. He wanted out of this purgatory, and his prime and overwhelming need was for revenge on Dean Winchester for placing him here again. He knew now that he would never turn this man; there was way too much intrinsic good in him for that, so he would break him and if that meant killing everything he cared for on the way then that would be his pleasure. He reached forward from his loathed angelic shackles and returned in voice to his tormented hunter._

Dean heard the voice of the daemon in his head, but it was as clear as the voices of his companions in the room. No it was clearer because it muted out their words and made its own the focus of his world. He felt the room begin to spin and twist beneath him and his eyes paled until they were almost as white as Uri's. Mikey's voice was pleasant and soft but it reverberated through Dean's head like the roar of cannon fire.

"_Good morning Dean. It's a pleasure to see you up and about. How are your injuries? And your pain? I remember your pain with such exquisite pleasure, your screams were so difficult to elicit that they were all the sweeter when they came."_

Sam didn't understand what was happening at first. All he knew was that Dean's level of consciousness suddenly dropped and he was no longer 'in the room' with them. His body pitched forward and, were it not for Sam's quick reflexes, he would have smashed his face against the table top.As it was he cracked his ribs against the edge of the table and Sam winced as he thought of his brother's less then recovered fractures.

Keeping hold of the back of his T-shirt, he leapt from his chair and gently eased Dean against the seat back as Bobby and Uriel joined him to cluster round the semi conscious hunter.

"Dean? Dean!"

Sam gently shook his brother, holding him by the upper arms as he crouched before his inert form.

"What the hell happened to him?"

He looked up at Bobby, who shook his head.

"Let's lay him down, maybe he just passed out?"

Between them, they gently carried Dean to the couch and settled him on the shabby cushions.

The hunter had clearly not just passed out as his head rolled from side to side in agitation and his lips moved as if he were talking, but clearly not to them.

"It's like he's having a ..."

Sam halted the older man's words with a frightened look and he finished the sentence himself.

"A vision, Bobby? He looks like he's having a vision?"

The older man saw hurt and pain written all over Sam's expressive face.

"I'm not sure it's a vision, Sam, but something's disturbing him..."

Bobby put his hand on Dean's forehead, only to have him moan and toss his head to the side and away from the cool hand.

"He's not particularly feverish...I just don't know what's happening?"

"I think I might..."

Uriel's voice was a as serious as Sam ever heard it and he looked to the angel who stood behind the couch looking over Dean's twitching form towards Sam and Bobby.

"So, spit it out, boy."

Bobby was impatient, his concern colouring his words and the angel nodded curtly.

"I think its Belial. I think somehow the discussion about the binding has opened a connection...I think that somehow Belial has a grip on Dean and that his power to heal come from the daemon."

Chapter ends.


	14. Chapter 14

**So Not An Angel!**

Chapter 14

"What the hell do you mean, Uriel?"

Sam crouched at Dean's side, his face a study in protective fury. His eyes were wide with both the need to defend Dean from the angel's accusation that his power to heal was born from evil, and to protect his brother from Belial's wrath. He looked up into Uriel's ethereally pale eyes, anger evident in his blanched lips and unwittingly white-knuckled grip on Dean's shoulder.

The angel held his hands up in a gesture of peace, his eyes as pale as Sam's were dark, but no less passion within them.

"I'm saying that I think that Belial can communicate with Dean directly."

"How?"

It was a challenge and Sam's face was drawn with a mixture of fierce anger and barely disguised fear. He was too aware of how Dean had suffered, mentally as well as physically, at the daemon's hands and feared that he would not be strong enough to take that sort of punishment again. Sam was more than willing to go head to head with any threat to protect his brother from yet more pain and if that meant taking on the power of the archangel then so be it.

He could feel his composure ebbing away and his voice was a dangerous growl as it ground out his words.

"How the hell can Belial get to Dean if he's bound, like you keep saying he is? He's supposed to be locked down isn't he? Dammit! I won't have my brother hurt again."

Bobby could see Sam's increasing agitation and he moved to stand behind the young hunter where he knelt beside the stricken man. He rested his hand lightly on Sam's shoulder, trying to calm the situation.

"Do you know how Belial's doing it, Uriel?"

Bobby's voice was deliberately measured, trying to de-escalate the tension. Not that he felt calm, and when he looked down at Dean he felt even less so. The young hunter was visibly shaking as he lay on the couch. His hands were balled into tight fists and, beneath his closed lids, his eyes moved constantly. His mouth was moving too, but no real words came out, just distressed mumblings and moans of pain.

"I don't exactly understand how, I've never seen it happen before but I don't like it..."

The angel didn't get to finish his sentence as the furious hunter shouted him down.

"Oh, and you suppose Dean does?"

Sam spat the words furiously at the watching angel, his grip on Dean's shoulder unwittingly intensifying and the unconscious hunter cried out in pain as Sam's hand found the residual fragility of the dislocation. Sam, however, was oblivious to the pain he was unintentionally causing as rage flowed through him.

"You think my brother wants that fucking ...thing...in his head again?"

Bobby tightened his hold on Sam's shoulder, unconsciously mirroring the hunter's grip on his brother, trying to pull Sam back from his escalating fury.

"Sam."

He shook the hunter's shoulder to force his attention from the angel.

"Sam! Stop it. Let go of your brother now."

Bobby's voice was quiet but totally commanding as he pushed the tall man out of his way and crouched to check on Dean's shoulder. He glanced briefly at Sam, his hard eyes instantly deterring the hunter from any idea of challenge

"Jeeze, I'm sorry, Bobby."

Sam knelt next to the older man, his rage immediately dissipated to be replaced by agonised contrition.

"Did I hurt him?"

Sam's words were soft and sorrowful.

Bobby continued his stern glance Sam's way as he took stock of Dean's condition.

"Yes, yes you did, Sam..."

Sam's eyes spoke volumes and Bobby gradually relented and softened his tone.

"But whatever has hold of his head is hurting him more. We need to break this link, or whatever it is."

He looked up at Uriel who had maintained his position, silent but watchful, throughout the exchange. Sam's eyes followed too, an unvoiced apology in the contrite hazel. The angel nodded once to acknowledge Sam's gesture and then took his turn at apologies.

"I don't know how to...Hell, Bobby, I don't even know for certain if that's what's happening..."

Bobby's look of impatience and frustration stopped the angel in mid sentence.

"Son, what's the point of having an angel in the house if..?"

Uriel grimaced and raised his hand, the disappointment in the older man's gaze cutting an icy channel into his heart.

"Raphe will know, Bobby, or Michael...we need to..."

'_Run to the hills _

_Run for your lives. _

_Run to the hills _

_Run for your lives' _

Dean's cell tone startled all three of them with its intrusive intensity, Iron Maiden's ironic words unconsciously hastening their pace as they searched the room for its location. Uriel was first to Dean's discarded jacket and he snatched the phone from the tattered pocket and tossed it, still trilling, to Sam who snapped it open and pressed it quizzically to his ear.

"Dean?"

The calm, strong voice flowed from the tiny cell into Sam and he felt the biting edge of his over whelming terror abate as he barked out his reply.

"Raphe?"

He looked into Uriel's eyes as he spoke and watched as the angel smiled, pleasure and relief lighting up his angular features.

"Sam, where's Dean, why didn't he answer?"

The older being was calm but his tone was urgent and Sam could hear other voices in the background. He thought he caught a snippet of Jo's familiar soft drawl blending with Michael's deep bass.

"He can't answer, Raphael. He's not conscious."

"Damn..!"

Passion decorated the angel's response. Sam continued.

"We were just discussing how his healing powers manifested but Dean didn't really want to talk about it and he got upset and then he just passed out."

Raphe pondered the scant information that Sam had provided him as he glanced back to his companions where they were carefully preparing the texts. Michael raised his head from the pages of Latin and Hebrew before him and his face was both knowing and grim.

"I was worried this would be affecting Dean in some way, Sam."

Raphael's voice was soft and Sam increased the volume on the cell as he hit hands-free and rested the phone on the arm of the sofa so Uriel and Bobby could hear the angel's words.

"What do you mean, Raphe?"

Uriel's delight at hearing his brother's voice was evident even though his words were urgent.

"Hello, Brother, it's good to hear your voice. You are missed..."

Warmth and sincerity marked Raphe's tone and, despite their anxiety, both Sam and Bobby allowed the moment, understanding Uriel's need. Tears sparkled in the angel's mute-toned eyes.

"There has been a surge in activity here, Sam. Lots of unusual static in the area, a few minor demons making attempts at escape..."

The healer angel heard the collective intake of hunter breath.

"Don't worry. Jo, Raguel and Michael have it in hand, but we know Belial is behind their insurgence. He's testing the gate and, from our interrogation of the ones he has pushed through the boundaries, we know he is coming after Dean. I can feel his mounting agitation Sam, he is channelling power from somewhere and I suspect it's linked to Dean's collapse.

Uriel jumped in and asked the question on all their lips.

"But how, Raphe..?"

"It must be the binding, Uri. I think it's because we used Dean's energy to augment ours and to wrap and bind Belial. We were experienced enough to be able to keep his darkness from our light but Dean was unprepared, un-schooled in keeping the dark at bay. Amplify that with the colossal nature of Dean's raw power and the attraction for Belial of that. I think somehow he is tapping that power. It should have been obvious to us that he would try something like this. We put him at risk Uriel, it was unforgivable."

Bobby watched the blond angel wince apologetically as Raphael made his damming statement and he looked at Sam, checking nervously for the hunter's response. He was relieved however as Sam waved away Uriel's discomfort with a quick shake of his head as Raphe continued.

"Somehow it allowed Belial to latch onto Dean and now I believe he can 'connect' in some way, maybe even 'draw' power from him, even from the spiritual cage we have him in here. It requires Dean to be distracted in some way...pain, grief, fear...something has to take his focus so the daemon can find a way in. But let's face it, with the life you Winchesters lead those parameters are not going to be difficult to induce."

As he spoke Dean's litany of soft moans and indistinct whispers increased and Sam pressed closer to Bobby, his hand moving to his brother's sweating brow as he writhed against his invisible tormentor.

Dean's mind was flooded with images of daemonic laughter as white hot pain lanced through his trembling body. He could feel evil invading his being, creeping into his head leaving doubt and fear whe re it moved, seeking something that was the essence of him. He wanted to get up and run in terror from it but his body was outside his control, wanted to close his mind to the corruption it extolled, but he could not turn from its perversely melodic voice.

"_So, Dean. Knowing each other as well as we do..." _

The daemon chuckled, a corrupt, throaty sound.

"_I hope you don't mind me saying that, but having seen you utterly broken and weeping was so pleasurable for me and I feel so drawn to you..."_

Dean shifted his head, rolling it from side to side as he trembled.

"_However, enough of pleasant reminiscing, Dean."_

The daemon's voice took on a harder, crueler tone.

"_I have finally come to realise that I will never persuade you to come to me, to taste the glory of my Master's kingdom, to be mine. I offer you all this and you will throw it away for the weak creatures you call family? You could have been infinitesimally powerful at my side and instead you chose this? I am disappointed in you, Dean, but I will still have my pleasure. What shall we do to you to punish you for your treachery?"_

The daemon's voice purred through Dean's body making him shudder with revulsion. He clenched his teeth trying to find a way to block out the soft corruption that dripped from Belial's tongue, but he couldn't find a way to dull the sound. He searched for Sam's voice, trying to ground himself in his brother, but the reality of the corporeal world was lost to him, blocked by the daemon, and he trembled at Belial's mercy.

"_Well, I think we will have to go with destruction, annihilation from the face of the earth because if I cannot have you, then I cannot have you and you power abroad in the world to work against me."_

The daemon's words were soft but they reverberated with hatred and the intensity of his intention was overwhelming.

"_I thought first though that I would perhaps play a little with some of those pathetic creatures you think of as important. Maybe let you watch as I torture them, tear them apart before your eyes. That would hurt you far more than your own pain wouldn't it, Dean? To see them hurt, damaged, broken. To know that it was your fault? That would be a far worse torture than actual physical pain could ever be for you. "_

Belial allowed the sweet fire of his anger to rouse a little further and he channelled his destruction at the helpless hunter, sighing with pleasure as he heard Dean's distant cries of distress.

Sam started as Dean suddenly spasmed beneath his hand, a loud groan of frank pain escaping his tightly pressed lips. He watched in horror as Dean's hand flew to his shoulder, blood blossoming around his outstretched fingers. Sam reached for the dressing covering the wound at his collar bone, and was horrified to see the carefully placed sutures popping one by one as the raw edges of the incised line peeled apart.

Sam placed his hand to the wound trying to halt the damage and Dean's eyes flew open, his cry of pain augmented by undisguised fear. The vivid green that was so characteristic was lost as his unseeing gaze became one of shining white.

"What's happeneing?"

Sam's face betrayed his anxiety as his wide hazel eyes flashed from the older hunter to angel and back again. Neither had an explanation to offer and Sam felt his panic as a rising heat in his gut. Somewhere in the distance he heard the tinny voice calling his name.

"Sam! Speak to me. What's happening...?"

Raphael's insistent voice cut through his panic and Sam scrabbled for the cell phone realising it had been dislodged as Dean had bucked against the pain. Bobby beat him to it and held the handset up towards Sam as the healer angel's words echoed around the room.

"Sam, what's going on? Is that Dean I can hear?"

"Yeah, it's Dean. His shoulder wound is somehow tearing open; I don't know how it's happening. It's just like something is ripping the sutures apart but there's nothing touching him. And Raphe, his eyes..."

Sam broke off, unable to find the words to describe the eerie opalescence of his brother's usually so familiar gaze.

"Are his eyes glowing as they were at the binding, Sam? When he was sharing power with us?"

Sam nodded, his voice stolen by his fear and the fact that Raphe could not see his response lost to his temporarily clouded mind.

Uriel reached across and took the cell from Bobby.

"His eyes are filled with white light, Raphe. Yeah it's just as they were at the binding. What can we do? Is there a way to break the contact?"

"Michael and Raguel are working on a permanent solution, Uri, but Dean needs help now. Do you remember the children in Krakow? The way we cloaked them so they could not be seen when they were trying to load them onto the trains? How we covered them so we could get them away and to safety?"

Uriel nodded, the words sticking in his throat at the memories that were heavy in his heart. He too forgetting that his brother angel could not see his face.

"He remembers, Raphael."

Bobby's gruff voice chased the unwanted images from Uriel's mind and he smiled weakly at the old hunter as Raphe continued.

"So we need to cloak Dean. To cover his power with ours so Belial cannot latch onto him. It will take all of us I fear, Dean's lit up like a spiritual Christmas tree so Michael, Raguel and I will arc from this end but we need you to pull the cloak toward him and settle it over him. Do you remember the words?"

Uriel smiled grimly.

"Yeah, Raphe. The words, along with the faces of those children, are never far from me."

Bobby could hear the sadness in the angel's cryptic response and he wondered what horrors this being had witnessed in his lifetime. The old hunter marvelled again at knowing that divinity was in his presence.

"Raphe! We're ready."

Raguel's rich, deep voice boomed over the cell's speaker; his massive frame resonating his words even through the poor production of the phone, and the occupants of the room took slight comfort from its melodic sound.

"What do we need to do, Uriel?"

Sam looked up from his kneel at the angel's feet into Uriel's pale eyes, and he was humbled to have the trust in his ability that Sam's face imparted.

"Nothing really, Sam. It's just the words...just keep an eye on him; once Belial knows what we are doing he might try and jump him with something else."

Sam nodded and glanced at Bobby, finding determination on the hunter's grizzled face.

"You want to be here? You need to be nearer to Dean?"

Bobby began to rise indicating that Uriel should shift to Dean's side but the angel halted him.

"No, Bobby. You and Sam stay there, he should come to once the cloak is laid and he'll be more comfortable seeing you than me."

The older hunter nodded and resumed his position as Uriel stood and composed himself, reaching out to his brother angels and the light of god.

wWw

The words of the cloaking swirled around Dean, protecting him from Belial's torment like a cool awning would shade him from the fierce desert sun. He heard the daemon's howls of rage as the angel's wove their love into a cloth of light and loosed it over him, blinding Belial to his presence and chasing his evil from Dean's mind. Consciousness returned in a rush and he sat up from his sprawl on the couch, his breath coming in huge sobs and the room spinning before him.

Bobby's hand was warm against his chest, steadying him, and he could feel Sam's arm slip around his shoulder as he swayed between the two of them. He was dizzy and breathless and before his eyes, now returned to a rich green, the room spun a little on its axis.

He could hear voices, distant and vague sounding in his head, and the combination made him nauseous. He groaned and closing his eyes, leaned back against Sam's arm and the cushion that Sam proffered.

"Uriel? Sam? Is he ok? Has it worked?"

Dean knew the voice instantly and he lurched forward again, only to have Bobby push him firmly back.

"Raphe?"

Dean's slightly unfocussed eyes flashed around the room, confusion on his face as he failed to find the healer angel. Uriel lifted the cell into the hunter's eye-line as he answered.

"He's OK, Raphael. It worked. Belial has left him."

"Lemme speak to him, Uri."

Raphe's voice was calm but just beneath the surface Uriel could hear his brother's concern for the young hunter. A tiny pang of jealousy twinged at his heart but he leaned in and brought the cell close to Dean as he panted in exhaustion against Sam's grasp.

"Ra...Raphael?"

"I'm here, Dean. Are you alright?"

Dean felt the calmness of the healer angel's voice flow over him and he visibly relaxed a little.

"M'fine, Raphe."

"Sure you are, my friend."

There was a little gentle disbelief and a whole load of obvious concern in the angel's words, and maybe even a little knowing humour, at Dean's so familiar epithet. The sudden release of tension in the room painted small smiles onto the faces of the collected hunters and divine being.

"Thank you."

Dean's voice was losing its remaining energy with each word and Raphe could hear that even down the cell connection.

"You are more than welcome, Dean. Now I want you to sleep."

Green eyes shot open, wide with apprehension.

"No!"

Fear was apparent in the one word and in Dean's suddenly increased rate of breathing. Raphael rushed back in.

"Dean!"

Command rang from the cell and Dean's fluttering eyes found the little machine where Uriel held it towards him.

"You will be fine. We have you safe. You can sleep and he will not come to you."

Dean's brow creased in frustration.

"Are you sure?"

He rolled his head a little against Sam's chest as he leaned into him from behind, his eyes finding Uriel as he did.

"I'm sure."

Raphe's soft voice and Uriel's emphatic nod saw Dean hold the question for a couple of heartbeats before he sighed and returned the nod.

"And I will be with you by tonight."

An exhausted smile lit up Dean's face and he responded quietly, his words slurring.

"Gd. Th..nks, R..phe!"

During the conversation Bobby had risen and fetched a bowl of hot water and his suture kit and he placed them on the table next to the couch as Uriel withdrew the phone from Dean.

"Need to re-tie that shoulder, son."

He reached forward with the scissors and moved to begin cutting off Dean's shirt at the sleeve. The weary hunter jerked away, his head rolling back to make eye contact with Sam.

"Sam!"

The urgency in the cry suggested pain and Sam hastily propped his brother against the cushions and moved round to be in his eye sight.

"What is it?"

Dean's head lolled forward, pressing on his bleeding shoulder and he started, jerking against the pillows, as his head tumbled back.

"It's ...a good...shirt, Sam!"

Sam laughed, looking at Bobby who sat back on his heels scissors poised. The older hunter rolled his eyes.

"Running... out...outta shirts!"

Sam gave an exaggerated nod so his lightly conscious brother could pick it out.

"Well, it's gonna hurt to take it off, Dean."

Sam reasoned.

"You think?"

"Uh huh."

Sam took the scissors from Bobby and began carefully cutting Dean's bloody shirt from his arm as the angel moved away, talking quietly into the cell.

"Awh crap! I liked that shirt."

Chapter ends.


	15. Chapter 15

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 15. Were-Creatures

"Ouch, Sam!"

Dean squirmed under his brother's huge hand, involuntarily jerking against the suture needle as Sam took another bite of his tender flesh. His shoulder was, thanks yet again to Belial, a gory mess and he was pissed. Uriel watched the surgery with interest, and though he would die before admit it, felt distinctly nauseous as he watched the resultant rivulet of fresh blood trickle down Dean's arm.

Though he himself had seen plenty of wounds in his time, the angel was amazed to see the casual ease with which the brothers went about the gruesome looking task. He was surprised that there was no offer of anaesthetics for the suturing and, whilst Uriel had at first thought Sam cruel, he realised quickly that Dean had absolutely no expectation of them.

"Sam! I said ouch."

Dean raised his hand defensively towards the wound, a look of peevish irritation on his face only to have Sam push him away.

"Quit pawin' at it, Dean. "

Sam's face had an expression that brooked no nonsense and growling, Dean dropped his hand back to his chest.

"I'm sorry, I know it hurts but I gotta do it and the problem is finding good enough skin to anchor the stitches."

Sam's voice was reason to Dean's emotion; cool to his fire, but then Sam wasn't the one getting stuck with the needle yet again.

"You have so gotta make sure you don't bust this open again, man..."

Sam muttered as he concentrated on the small undamaged area of skin he was piercing with the curved needle.

"Oh, ya think?"

Dean snarked, gritting his teeth against the familiar discomfort. He scowled at Uriel as he approached the back of the couch, closing the cell phone and ending his conversation with Raphael.

"Raphe will heal it for you when he gets here, Dean. If you let him that is."

Uriel handed the cell back as he spoke and he smiled as he thought about his brother's imminent arrival. Dean's expression was less assured. There was the element of an answering smile but it was tempered by trepidation at the memory of the pain of his last healing. And, if you knew how to look, there was also nervousness at the thought of the inevitable conversations about his own healing skills. It was not really surprising, for whilst the power humming within him gave him a shy pleasure, it also still scared the crap outta him, and a nervous Dean was a snarky one.

"Peachy!"

Bobby winced as he returned from the kitchen to hear Dean's venomous comment and he looked to Uriel expecting to see the angel rise at some perceived disrespect of his brother. He was poised to referee another Winchester Vs divinity brawl but was relieved to see Uri laugh at Dean's snarl, as he spoke.

"Well, if ya'd stop getting torn up all the time..."

"Well, I didn't ask..."

Uriel stopped in mid sentence as Dean sat up from the cushions to contend his statement, inadvertently jamming the suture needle deep into Sam's finger.

"Ouch!"

Sam yelled at the sudden stab and grabbed his skewered hand with the other, staring in annoyance at Dean.

"For god's sake, can't you just sit still whilst I get this done?"

Hazel eyes blazed with the remnants of adrenaline that the encounter with Mikey had left within Sam, his fear for Dean now manifesting as anger.

"I'm trying. This isn't exactly my idea of fun either, ya know! "

Dean shot back, his eyes blazing with at least as much passion as Sam's.

Bobby watched the brothers barking at each other and moved swiftly to try and head off the fireworks. He had seen these two go head to head often enough to know that it made sense to stop it before it started. Diversionary tactics were called for and, seeing as there was nothing to be done about Dean's situation until Raphael arrived, it was up to him.

"So, boys."

He reached for the first aid kit as he spoke: moving to sit at the foot of the couch, causing Dean to grumpily pull his feet out of the way or be sat on. He busied himself with prepping the dressings for Sam, who was preoccupied with pulling the suture needle from his throbbing finger.

Three sets of eyes gravitated towards him and Bobby was relieved to find the emotional temperature in the room drop a few degrees as he continued.

"While we wait for Raphael's arrival I could use your help."

"What is it, Bobby?"

Sam's eyes flickered from the task in hand to his old friends face.

"Well, before I got your call, I was working on a situation not far from here, just over the county line in fact. Got a long, slow string of incidents of folk getting dead, mainly round the full moon sorta time. Folks got busted up real bad but it's been put down to bears, wolves, raccoons even..."

Dean laughed, grimacing as his movements jiggled Sam's steady hand.

"Raccoons?"

Bobby looked at his disbelieving face, and used his 'challenging down the snark' gaze to good effect. He was relieved to see it still carried all its weight as Dean's laughter subsided immediately to an embarrassed grin.

"Yeah, Boy. There was some guy, two deaths ago, who claimed he was followed by things that looked like raccoons, only bigger and a whole hell of a lot meaner. He wasn't no fainting flower neither and was gonna tackle 'em but he had his fiancée with him and she was scared so he backed off. Said they sat there just watching him with their pointy little teeth and all. Freaked him out totally. Next night they found another guy, all bit up and half dragged down a storm drain."

Uriel chimed in then from his perch on the back of the couch.

"So you think they are..."

"Uh-huh."

Bobby interrupted the angel, nodding his grizzled head and absently passing Sam a dressing pad to place against Dean's once-again-repaired shoulder as he answered.

"Yeah, weres, it would seem."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other, unhappy memories of previous encounters with were-creatures and the negative effect on Winchester flesh, fresh in their minds.

"Doesn't sound like wolf behaviour though, Bobby."

Dean's voice was stronger than it had been the distraction of having something else to focus on helping to banish visions of Belial. The older man nodded.

"You're right, Dean."

Bobby dispensed surgical tape as he spoke, handing it to Sam who adhered the dressings to his brother's inflamed shoulder.

"I don't think this one was necessarily a were-wolf. The patterns are different in each case though, and the one three years ago does sound like typical were-wolf killing."

"So you're thinking that there is more than one were-species involved?"

Sam's wide eyes bore an understandable scepticism and Bobby acknowledged his allowance of the emotion.

"I know, Sam. It's far-fetched even by Winchester standards..."

They paused and all fell momentarily to silent contemplation, as Sam completed the dressing and helped Dean into the T-shirt Uriel had fetched for him. It turned out to be one of the angel's own and Dean smiled at the softness of the cotton that the shirt was made of. It was plain black with just a tiny Armani logo on the sleeve, but it screamed quality of the sort Sam and Dean could never aspire to. Dean pulled the shirt into place, it was tight, as he was stockier than the angel, but it fit well. He nodded his thanks to Uriel.

"You said you were short of shirts."

The angel offered by way of explanation.

"Armani. Nice!"

Dean's hand trailed down the soft cotton as he spoke.

Sam's eyebrows shot up in question at his brother's familiarity with designer logos and Dean blushed slightly.

"What?"

"Dude. How come you know the difference between Armani and Walmart?"

Sam chided as Dean carefully wriggled round, holding his left arm into his body, so he was sitting rather than lying on the couch.

"I watch 'America's Next Top Model' like everyone else."

Dean muttered in obvious embarrassment, and Sam shook his head in disbelief at the surprises his big brother still had to meter out.

"So, enough of the fashion show, boys."

Bobby growled, a smile hidden behind his beard.

"You gonna help me or what? I don't want whatever these things turn out to be chewing up anyone else and it's a full moon tomorrow."

"Sure Bobby."

Sam's response was automatic; it took no thought to come to the aid of the hunter they thought of as a surrogate father.

"What do you need?"

He tidied the first aid paraphernalia away as he spoke.

"I need ya to come and help me check out the possible nest, Sam. I've narrowed down the possibilities and I think they are using some old disused farm buildings I've found as their home."

"Wait a minute, Bobby."

Dean's eyes found the older hunter as he completed a cursory check of a reluctant Sam's punctured finger.

"You think these are were-creatures? Right?"

Bobby nodded.

"So how come they are nesting together all the time? And you said most of the killings were at full moons but some weren't? So how come they're not just changing with the moon? That's not typical were behaviour?"

"You're right, Dean."

The older hunter rose and crossed to the desk as he spoke, retrieving an old, fragile looking book before returning to the trio.

"See I don't think these are weres created by being bitten by some carrier..."

He opened the book at a marked page, handing it to Dean.

"I think they're genetic weres."

Dean reached for the heavy tome, his interest peaked, only to pull up short as his delicately embroidered shoulder protested, and an involuntary gasp of pain left his lips.

Uriel's hand caught the book as it threatened to fall and he slid next to Dean on the couch, holding the book so they could all see the sketches within. His pale eyes were bright with interest as he looked up at Bobby.

"I've come across this before, Bobby."

The angel tapped his finger against the text absently, his eyes searching up and to the right as he accessed old memories.

"Raguel and I, years ago, we came across a group of mixed origin creatures in Romania. They were all able to change at will and had been since puberty. It was part of them, not something that they had come to as a result of an infected bite from another creature. They were were-born and lived communally, hunting as a symbiotic pack."

Bobby nodded in understanding as the angel spoke, watching the premise land and rest with the brothers.

"They lived as a family, even though they had dissimilar traits; and though they could to a large degree control their change to their given animal form, they were strongly influenced by the phasing of the moon."

He looked up at Bobby for confirmation, finding the hunter's grim face.

"As I thought, all the evidence seems to point to a collective hunting together, utilising all the skills of the pack but different creatures taking turns to control the kill..."

The angel smiled grimly.

"That's how it was before. The family was headed by a were-leopard but there were wolves, and a were-tiger too as I remember it."

"Were-tiger?"

Sam's face showed curiosity, but also acceptance, and the angel simply nodded, turning with the others to Dean as his laughter drew their attention.

"So the raccoon's thing was actually real? But they were were-racccoons?"

Bobby's brows drew together in warning but Dean was too amused to notice.

"So does that mean any cute, fuzzy little rodent can go Cujo so long as it belongs to the alternate Brady Bunch family here?"

Uriel responded, noting the older hunter's increasingly annoyed expression.

"Yeah, Dean. Genetic were's can be tied to any host animal."

"So..."

Sam couldn't help but smile as he watched Dean's quirkily creative 'right- brain' kick in on the bizarre concept.

"So you could have were-mice and were-bunnies?"

"Dean..."

Bobby's voice was softly irritated, easy to hear, but the warning fell on deaf ears with Dean.

"So Sammy, maybe we have were-giraffe in the family and that's why you're so tall and..."

"Dean!"

Bobby's bark jerked all attention back to the old hunter and wiped the smile off Dean's face.

"People died, remember?"

"Sorry, Bobby."

Dean's contrition satisfied the older man and he pressed on.

"So I need some help to go check out the place I think is the nest, see if this theory holds water..."

"Sure, Bobby, we're with you."

Dean started to lever himself up from the couch, his left arm casually held in close to his body and the pain of the new sutures carefully absent from his face.

"And just where do you think you're going?"

Sam's voice was soft but determined and he towered over his brother as Dean struggled to his feet.

"What do you mean, Sammy?"

Dean looked at his brother, a vague sense of concern churning his gut.

"You are not helping with this one, Dean."

It was a statement, not a request, and Uriel watched the older Winchester's eyes brighten with the beginnings of anger as he looked up slightly to capture Sam's gaze. But before he could speak, Sam continued.

"You are not going anywhere near a nest of were-creatures, or anything else for that matter, Dean."

The tone of authority in Sam's words was unmistakable, and the angel was impressed by the level of command the tall, young man could bring in his quiet manner. However, it had little effect on the elder brother.

"Well, you really think you're going after a pack of weres without me?"

Dean stood toe to toe with Sam and Bobby sighed as another incipient verbal brawl kicked up a notch.

"Dean. For pity's sake...your shoulder..."

Sam decided on an appeal for reason, gesturing with his strong hands at his brother's slightly hunched posture. Dean's response was to push his shoulders back and struggle to a vaguely more upright position, and, if you ignored the beads of sweat on his brow, it was an almost believably casual move.

"Its fine, Sam. I've hunted with a lot worse and this is just recon, not a fist fight. Right, Bobby?"

He appealed to the older man, who raised his hands in defence.

"Not sure I want to be dragged into this, Dean, but for what it's worth I think you should concentrate on not busting those stitches open again. That and keeping Belial from your tail!"

Uriel watched as Dean registered he had no allies in this battle and he was being out manoeuvred. He watched the horror that he might be left behind manifest as a sudden paleness on Dean's face, a tightening of his lips and tension in his stance. The angel empathised, remembering the humiliation of being told by Michael that he wasn't fit enough to go with his brothers, and he knew the sting of that lingering shame blushed his cheeks.

"Sam..."

Dean's voice was a low growl.

"I'm not being left behind..."

Sam interrupted with reciprocally restrained ferocity.

"Oh you so are, Dean. Are you an idiot or what? You can barely stand for more than a few minutes, I don't believe you could hold a feather let alone a weapon and don't tell me you're not in pain 'cause I can see it in your eyes. No, you'd be a liability and you are not going."

Dean flinched but stood his ground as Sam raged softly on.

"But it's not that. I'd risk taking you beat up as you are, but hell, Dean, you have a pureblood daemon on your ass and, from the display a few minutes ago, it seems you're helpless against him."

That stung far worse than any suturing needle had and Dean felt anger bubbling within him.

"What do you mean by that?"

Dean's voice was brimming with hurt and betrayal and his green eyes sparkled with fire as he stared at his brother.

"I mean that something is happening to you that we don't understand and that you can't seem to control, Dean. Belial seems to be able to manifest through you somehow and take you down..."

"You think I'm controlled by the daemon?"

All the hurt and fear that Dean had been carrying within himself for weeks now oozed from those words and Sam recoiled from the ferocity of the betrayal he knew Dean was feeling. Still he had to protect him. From Mikey, but also from himself if needs be. He stood his ground.

"I don't know, Dean. That's the top and bottom of it and I can't risk you being in pain out there and losing it and Belial getting hold of you again..."

"You don't trust me enough to be able to hold it together? You don't trust me enough to hunt with me?"

Raw hurt poured from Dean's words and Bobby watched as the older Winchester slumped visibly in the face of the perceived betrayal.

"It's not that, Dean. It's..."

"What is it then? You think I'm some sort of daemon spawned freak?"

Dean spat the words bitterly and Sam longed to take back the hurt he was causing.

"Dean..."

Dean held his hand up to silence his brother. He didn't want to hear anymore and he could see Sam's answer in the hesitancy of his response. Sam tried to continue anyway but the words petered out.

"It's just that you can't control it..."

Dean sat down heavily on the sofa, his eyes cast down and his right hand unconsciously drawing his throbbing left towards his aching ribs. Suddenly the pain he had pushed away seemed very real again.

"I can't risk..."

Sam paused as Dean's head came up and his soft green eyes met guilt ridden hazel.

"I never once called you a freak."

Dean's voice was ghost soft.

"Yeah, you did, Dean."

Whisper matched Winchester whisper.

"Yeah, but I didn't mean it, Sam. I watched you become lost in every vision you ever had and I never once thought of leaving you behind."

Sam swallowed, his gut churning at the undisguised hurt in his brother's brimming eyes.

"I didn't call you a freak, Dean."

Sam choked the words out over the bile rising in his throat.

"You didn't have to. I can see it in your eyes."

Dean's voice was ice and fire, and he cradled his arm to his body as defeat flooded through him. His words dismissed Sam and sealed the argument with bitterness and betrayal.

"Okay. Go find the nest. I'll stay here."

The pain in Dean's voice chilled Uriel's heart and he looked at Sam, seeing pain there too but also a determination to follow this path.

"I take it you don't need me either, seeing as you don't want anything less than perfection?"

The angel tapped his cane to his braced knee meaningfully as he spoke. Sam had no voice for a reply. There was a boundary he knew he had crossed and he regretted it but would not take it back and have Dean recklessly risk himself.

"Good. Then I'll stay here with Dean."

Bobby could see that this was shaping up to be a disaster. Maybe a bit of distance was called for. He stepped toward the angel and handed him a list.

"Here, I've got a better idea. I didn't get round to finishing my research. This is a list of books that the library has ordered in for me but won't let outta their sight, so we'll drop you and Dean in town and you can see if they offer any insights on how to deal with this sort of manifestation."

Uriel took the list with all the enthusiasm of a rat being handed poison.

"Reasearch?"

Bobby nodded enthusiastically.

"Peachy!"

The angel retorted with undisguised disgust.

wWw

The ride into town was a tense affair, with nothing exchanged between Sam and Dean and the attempts made by Bobby and Uriel being greeted with monosyllabic responses. They reached the library in around 10 minutes and Dean climbed stiffly from his exile in the rear of the Impala silently, to stand with the angel on the sidewalk.

"Ring me when you're done and we'll pick you up when we've scoped out the nest site."

Bobby looked at the angel as he spoke and Uriel nodded his understanding as Dean remained stoically silent.

"Be careful."

The older man stared pointedly at Dean. He waited a full 10 seconds but there was no response from the seething Winchester. Uriel noted the absence of reply and rode the tension that accompanied it.

"We will, Bobby. You too, huh?"

The old hunter nodded.

"Let's go, Sam."

And Dean watched as the Impala growled her way down the street, his face an impenetrable mask.

Chapter ends


	16. Chapter 16

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter Sixteen "Do angels drink?"

They walked in silence down the sidewalk, the only real noise being the soft cadence of Uriel's cane as he leaned on it with each stride. The angel moved with relative ease, his limp still evident but far less pronounced than it had been. If truth be told he could have been comfortable with a faster pace but he deliberately moderated his stride to that he thought his reluctant companion could comfortably match. It was a small gesture, and if the hunter was aware of it he said nothing, but neither did he try and increase the pace.

The silence brooded, waves of contained anger washing from the mute hunter but Uriel lived with it confident that, this time, Dean's rage was not directed at him.

They reached the library in a matter of minutes and by mutual, unvoiced agreement stopped before the steps and contemplated the old stone building.

"So."

Uriel's voice cut the silence and the hunter turned his head to find Divine, white eyes observing him.

"So?"

Dean returned as they stared at each other for a moment, the angel weighing up his approach before continuing.

"So, you have any intention of actually doing any research?"

"Nope."

Dean drawled softly, his emerald eyes holding the angel's, his face purposefully neutral.

"You?"

Uriel shook his head before mirroring the hunter's response.

"Nope. No intention of even going in there to be honest."

Dean nodded slowly, the slightest smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He looked briefly back at the building, as if dismissing it before turning his head back to the angel.

"Tell me, Uriel. Do angel's drink?"

Uriel smiled.

"You buying?"

Dean's face softened, a semblance of the famous Dean Winchester special smile ghosting his lips.

"I am, but I'm not sure if I've got the cash for ambrosia!"

Uriel laughed and clapped his hand gently on the hunters back as they turned and headed up the sidewalk towards the glowing neon.

"S'OK, Dean. I prefer a cool 'Moose Drool' anyway."

wWw

Bobby watched Sam's face out of the corner of his eye as the younger Winchester gunned the Impala towards the outskirts of town. Tension was etched in Sam's every movement and gesture, and Bobby's attuned hearing fancied it could even make out the pounding of the younger man's heart. The old hunter sighed softly. Nothing Sam said had been untrue, or even particularly derogatory, but Bobby knew it had wounded Dean to the core and he could see how much that was playing on the younger Winchester's conscience.

"Do you want to talk about it, Sam, or are you gonna just drive the gas pedal clean through the floor?"

Bobby's voice was soft but struck immediately through Sam's rage and he eased his foot off the gas and glanced at the older man with apologetic eyes.

"I'm sorry, Bobby. It's just..."

Bobby nodded. He had spent enough time with both the brothers to know them nearly as well as they knew each other.

"What? He makes you mad? He's infuriating..?"

Sam snorted quietly as he returned the nod.

"So nothing new there then."

Bobby observed.

"So why so angry this time, Sam? Why leave him behind? You know how bad that's gonna hurt him, so why...?"

There was a pause as Sam frowned and sought for a suitable answer.

"His shoulder, Bobby..."

The words sounded lame even as they left Sam's lips and he cringed as the older man responded vehemently.

"Bull-shit, Sam! You've both hunted with much worse and you know it. And, what's more to the point, so does Dean. What's really eatin' at ya?"

Sam didn't respond and they rode a minute or two in uncomfortable silence before Bobby continued.

"It's this whole 'connection to Belial' thing isn't it?"

There was no immediate answer but the young hunter cruised the Impala to a halt and shifted into park. He hesitated a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then turned slightly towards his old friend, expression perplexed as he started to speak.

"The whole 'Warrior Healer' thing is cool, Bobby, and once he's come round to the idea of it and got over being embarrassed as hell, Dean'll see that too. I'm pretty sure, too, that Raphe will be able to teach him to not have it hurt so much when he heals..."

Sam's words petered out and his slightly embarrassed gaze swept away to inspect the steering wheel, where his large hands gripped tightly. Bobby watched as uncertainty about how to continue etched itself on Sam's thoughtful features and a mixture of sympathy and irritation rose like bile in his throat.

"Yeah, that's great. I get how happy you are for him and I'm pleased that Dean's 'special' too. So, now, how 'bout you cut the crap, Sam, and get to the point."

Bobby's irony was not lost on Sam, nor was the older man's building impatience.

"Well, what if this healing gift really does come from Belial, Bobby? What does that mean? For Dean, for those he heals? How can a daemonic gift be used for good? I'm scared for him and I'm..."

The words spilled out of Sam in a frightened rush and Bobby understood easily Sam's anxiety. He pulled his scruffy baseball cap off and rubbed his hand through his untidy hair.

"And of him? You're scared of him, Sam?"

The older man studied the hunter before him. He had seen Sam, man and boy, face creatures more terrifying than most people would ever imagine in a lifetime of nightmares and not flinch so to have him admit that his own brother scared him was a huge problem. And one for which Bobby, unfortunately, had no immediate solution.

No answer was forthcoming from the distressed hunter but waves of discomfort washed from the tall man as he stared miserably at his hands. Bobby broke the silence.

"We have to trust him, Sam. You know Dean better than anyone and he would never use the gift for anything but good..."

Sam turned back to the older man, a look of horror on his face.

"Do you really think that, for one minute, I would believe he would choose to do anything but good?"

Sam's eyes shone with an intensity born of his passionate belief in his brother and Bobby's silent nod acknowledged his shared belief. Sam continued.

"But it's whether its Dean's choice. You've seen what it's like for him when Belial finds him, Bobby. He's terrified..."

Sam paused, the breath catching in his throat.

"Well it's understandable, Sam. From what you have said, the demon gave him a real hard time."

Sam's face blanched at the older man's choice of words.

"Oh yeah you could say it was a bit of a 'hard time' there, Bobby. Seeing as that son of a bitch tortured him to the point of death."

Bobby absorbed the flare of anger knowing it was not really directed at him but more at the injustice of a fucked up situation and Sam's face softened as he watched his mentor.

"So what if he doesn't have a choice, Bobby? What if Belial can take him through this connection and make Dean do what he wishes?"

Sam's anguish was clear and it tugged at Bobby's pounding heart, reinforcing all his own, barely controlled fears.

"I don't know, Sam, but we will work with the angels and find a way to pull this round."

The words were powerfully voiced and Sam took some comfort from them even though both men knew that the doubts they each held were unquelled. Sam restarted the Impala, the familiar growl of the old engine giving them focus.

"Let's get this over with and go check out your weres, Bobby. I wanna get back and pick Dean and Uri up, I have an apology to make."

wWw

Uriel sipped his beer and watched his companion intently over the rim of the bottle. Dean was looking directly at him and the angel was reminded why humans and demons alike were captivated by this hunter's eyes. They were an extraordinary shade of green, and, in his distraction, Dean was momentarily doing nothing to block Uri from seeing into those turbulent emerald depths. Anger, pain and humiliation all roiled within the man before him and the angel could feel betrayal oozing from his implacable countenance. Uriel recognised what potentially dangerous territory he was in but he was fascinated by the silent hunter and pressed on with care.

"So I take it being left behind is not something that you relish either?"

Dean spluttered his beer and smiled despite himself as he responded.

"Are you always so direct?"

The angel nodded, shifting on the bench seat of the booth they had snagged so he was leaning comfortably against the upholstery.

"Yeah, I am pretty much. Michael says that I'm 'inappropriately confrontational' but I like to think of it as displaying a healthy interest in people."

He raised his bottle as he spoke and grinned as he chugged the cold beer.

"He's quite opinionated, Michael, isn't he?"

Dean toyed with his drink as he spoke. It was a minor challenge back to the angel, and Uriel kept a rein on his response.

"Yeah, he can be. He has a lot of responsibility and he takes it seriously. Guess that's the 'older brother' in him."

"I suppose."

Green eyes held white as they each sipped at their bottles.

"Maybe Sam'd say you're opinionated too?"

The angel saw the slight tightening of the hunter's jaw as he spoke softly.

"Yeah, likely he would."

"You have a lot in common with Michael you know?"

Uriel watched as Dean's eyes widened at the statement, but he made no comment.

"Oh I know you don't like him, but..."

Dean lowered his beer a little more emphatically than he planned and the thick glass thumped onto the sticky table top.

"It's not that I don't like him, Uriel..."

"Oh, well you do a real good impression of it."

Fiery white eyes stared directly at soft jade green and the angel braced himself for the angry retort he anticipated. It didn't come.

"I don't know Michael, Uri. I don't know your brother."

Dean's voice was heavy with contemplation and a little discomfort.

"I know a creature that looked just like Michael, but that..."

He stopped and his eyes dropped to the table top. The angel could feel the pain and fear washing from Dean. He waited in silence until Dean started to talk again.

"Well, let's just say that every time I see your brother, I don't see the being you know, I see Mikey...Belial."

He lifted his eyes hesitantly to the angel's, and was surprised to find understanding there.

"I get it, you know? I do, Dean. I had to watch while Belial 'used' Michael to destroy, to perpetrate horror. It was devastating and I was powerless. That's why I had to get him back, why I would have given you anything to help me save him..."

The blond angel stopped abruptly, emotion closing his throat so he couldn't speak.

"I'm glad we freed him, Uriel. I don't regret any of that."

Uri smiled, a genuine smile of gratitude.

"And maybe, in time..."

Dean held his hand up laughing.

"Yeah, yeah Michael and I'll ride off into the sunset together!"

Uriel joined in the laughter.

"Oh crap no, Dean. Michael hates horses. He had a bad experience with Xanthos onetime..."

"Xanthos?"

"Sorry, one of Achilles immortal steeds?"

Dean still looked blank, the angel elaborated.

"They were drunk..."

"The horses?"

Uri snorted.

"No, Achilles and Michael."

"He gets drunk?"

Dean was amused at the thought.

"Yup, outta his tree given the right circumstances..."

Dean's face retained a healthy scepticism but Uriel chose to ignore it.

"Anyway Achilles challenged Michael to a race. He took Balius and Michael got Xanthos. It was hysterical 'cause Xanthos was strong but small and Michael's legs virtually trailed the floor."

Dean roared with laughter at the image.

"That'd be Sam, took him horseback riding once and his great long legs were everywhere."

"Exactly!"

Uriel clinked his beer bottle on Dean's.

"That's why he favours the SUV now, can't buck him off!"

And their laughter drowned out the other conversation in the bar.

wWw

Sam wrinkled his nose as he studied the fly ridden remains that strew the dark room. The stench was appalling and Sam gagged as the pile of offal before him shifted as he probed gingerly at it, intensifying the smell of decay in the claustrophobic atmosphere. He glanced across to his older companion and marvelled at Bobby's cool, detatched demeanour amid the horror of this charnel house.

"What are ya seeing, Sam?"

Bobby's voice was nasal as he breathed through his mouth trying to hold the smell of decay at bay.

"Animal remains, I think, Bobby, but ripped and torn to shreds. What about you?"

Bobby was nodding as Sam moved to join him where he was crouching.

"Mostly yeah. A number of different claw and tooth patterns though?"

Sam returned the nod.

"Yeah, some large claw marks, maybe werewolf, but smaller slash marks too."

Bobby rose.

"I'm thinking maybe, were-cat of some type...maybe leopard?"

Bobby looked into Sam's hazel eyes and saw agreement there.

"And I think there's human remains both here..."

He pushed his boot nearer towards the mound of grim flesh nearest to them,

"And over there."

Bobby's hand gestured towards the corner of the room.

"So where are they, Bobby? This must be the nest and it's clearly still inhabited."

Sam's long arms gestured in the semi darkness to the jumble of blankets and paraphernalia intermingled with the body parts.

"How do they live like this, Bobby?"

Disgust wrinkled Sam's nose and the older man could empathise with the hunter's feelings. The room was foul, a combination of messy living accommodation and charnel house.

"Remember, Sam. These are genetic weres. They don't change simply at the full of the moon. They can change at will, retain their chosen creature form, in essence become and live as their animal familiar. They are more dangerous, more organised as weres than we are used to."

The words hung ominously in the air as they took a final look around the grim slaughter house.

"Let's get outta here, Sam."

Bobby turned for the door and halted, Sam barrelling into his back, as the deep rumbling growl echoed softly around the enclosed space. The panther was huge; it's sleek, black, spotted fur bristling with feline grace and power as it filled the door frame, blocking their exit. It observed the hunters, its mouth bared into a savage growl as it prowled.

Sam reached his hand slowly towards the gun at the waistband of his jeans, the silver shell chambered there itching for his hand, as Bobby shielded his movement from the panther.

"Easy...easy, Sam."

Bobby's whisper was an entreaty for calm and Sam moved with measured restraint, trying to do nothing to enrage the huge beast before them. Even so the acute hearing of the were-cat detected the movement and the panther roared its disapproval, feinting towards them as Sam cleared the gun and raced to raise the barrel to the advancing beast.

The cat ploughed full on into Bobby, toppling him into Sam and taking them both down as it bounded over them, growling its displeasure in a wash of hot, fetid breath. Sam's gun skittered from his fingers as his shoulder smashed numbingly into the hard packed floor of the barn and the hunter's rolled in an untidy jumble of limbs, fighting desperately to gain an advantage.

The were-leopard turned effortlessly and rounded on the unprepared hunters and Sam braced, anticipating the killing blow from the beast. It never came. The cat leapt past them bolting for the door leaving them gasping with relief in the dirt as it fled, snarling, through the open door.

wWw

Dean laughed out loud, looking at Uriel as the lean, blond angel smiled and possibly even blushed a little.

"So you left Raphe to carry the can and spent, what I can only assume was, a very pleasant evening with both of them?"

Uri raised his eyebrows as he spoke.

"Well, it would have been ungentle-manly to choose one over the other, wouldn't it?"

Dean half nodded as he continued, his face all mock seriousness.

"So how did Raphe take it?"

Uriel smiled at the memory.

"He was his usual unassuming self."

The angel's mouth quirked ironically as he spoke and Dean shook his head, gently challenging the response. Uriel laughed.

"OK, he waited for the right moment and then he paid me back big time."

Dean smiled delightedly, thinking about the tall, healer angel he had come to admire getting one over on the cocky Uriel.

"Yeah, he waited weeks and then set me up for such a fall with Michael that it took me months of crawling to get back in the big guy's good books."

Dean laughed, imagining the senior angel's ire, as he queried.

"Not a guy to get into the bad books with?"

Uriel twirled the empty beer bottle on its end on the sticky table.

"Nah, not really. Michael has very exacting standards. He lives up to them himself and holds them up for us too but, well..."

The angel looked at Dean almost apologetically and was surprised to find a sympathetic response.

"It's hard always living up to an ideal..."

The hunter mused.

"I guess angels get tired as well?"

Uriel pursed his lips as he spoke.

"Umm. Are you tired, Dean? Tired of fighting monsters?"

Dean raised an eyebrow at the flippant choice of words, and Uriel held up his hand in a gesture of peace, as the hunter answered.

"I do get tired but it needs to be done and it's what I was raised to do, Uriel. Hell, in truth it's all I really know. I can remember a life before I understood what waited in the darkness, but I've done this for so long now that I don't think I could lead a 'normal' life anymore."

"It's a bit like that for us, Dean. We walk the Earth and we live amongst man but we never really fit in. We form allegiances, sometimes we even learn to love, but we always live beyond the friendships we make. "

The angel stopped, his face softened by his memories and Dean joined him in momentary contemplation. The angel's next question broke the silence.

"Are you tired of looking out for Sam?"

The question was softly voiced but there was challenge within the words.

"No!"

The answer was emphatic, utterly convincing.

"No, I am not tired of protecting Sam."

Fiery green eyes found angelic white as they measured each other up and the angel backed away, chastened by the complete certainty he saw in the man before him.

"Get ya another beer?"

Uriel held his empty bottle up a little and flashed a grin. Dean shook his head.

"Maybe we should head back...I ought to...maybe I should talk to Sam..."

Dean was hesitant and Uriel pressed forward.

"One more beer, Dean. I'll buy."

"OK, one more and then we call Bobby."

Uriel was on his feet and heading for the bar as Dean spoke.

wWw

Dean watched as Uriel made his way to the bar, weaving just ever so slightly as he moved between the tables. He smiled, realising the angel had left his cane and he reached forward thinking to toss it after its forgetful owner. The spontaneous movement failed to take account of his healing wounds, and Dean found the cane slipping from his grasp as a soft 'oouff!' of pain saw his hand holding his sore ribs and he panted slightly till his vision cleared of the little fire-flashes of pain. He bent then, carefully and very slowly, to retrieve the cane from the floor.

As he straightened up, Dean glanced over to follow the path to the bar that the angel had taken and he was surprised to see Uriel engaged in animated conversation with a slight, pretty redhead. The angel was laughing and, though he could not hear their conversation, Dean could tell that Uriel had turned on the charm. The woman, however, was not quite as engaged in the conversation and Dean watched as her feline eyes sought out other new comers to the bar. A heavy set man stood by the juke box, his dark, shaggy hair and pale blue eyes marking him out as striking. Similarly two other men in biker gear stood by the bars doors, silent but attentive. There was nothing remarkable about the newcomers but Dean was somehow disconcerted by their sudden appearance and the obvious connection they seemed to have to each other.

He rose carefully to his feet, waiting a second or two until his various protesting wounds and bruises settled into an upright position, and then, hefting Uriel's cane, slowly made his way towards his companion at the bar.

The woman watched Dean with casual interest as he approached, and though the hunter was used to often being scrutinised by the denizens of bars, he found this barely disguised observation disconcerting.

He stopped some feet from the couple and held Uriel's cane out by its tip toward the angel.

"We need to make tracks, Uri."

Uriel's smile remained in place but his eyes shrieked 'what the hell are you doing?' but Dean was unmoved and gently thrust the handle of the cane into the angel's hand.

"Why the rush, hunny?"

The red heads voice was slightly amused and Dean's shifted his eyes to her as Uriel continued to glower. Her eyes were beautiful, a rich, cognac amber colour but they had a feral slant which made them dangerous as well as hypnotic.

"Come on, Uri."

Dean placed his arm on the angel's, forcefully steering the reluctant being towards the door as the redhead climbed from her barstool. She reached out and laid a soft hand on top of the hunter's and inside Dean's head a world of unbidden images exploded.

Dean was running and he could feel adrenaline coursing through his body. The sounds and smells of the forest he was in were alive in a way he had never experienced before. The sounds of his surroundings deafened him they were so clear and he could smell everything like never before. He moved on silken paws, his four limbs moving with organic fluidity, and his progress silenced by his feline grace. He opened his mouth and the growl of the were-cat thrummed from his altered vocal cords.

Dean shook the hand free from his arm like he had been electrocuted, his eyes flashing from the were-cat girl before him to the others in the bar. Now he had touched her something within him had switched on and he could see the otherworldliness in each of them. The heavy set man by the juke box was a bear, the two by the door, wolves, and Dean knew that they were aware now that he could see them for what they really were.

Chapter ends


	17. Chapter 17

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 17 Watch Out For The Were-Bear! 

Once Dean's shocked face made it clear that he saw through the cleverly constructed facade of humanity that shielded each of the genetic were's, their metamorphosis was both immediate and spectacular. The creatures transformed swiftly to become their lycanthrope familiars.

Muscle and sinew ripped and elongated. Bones fractured, reshaped spontaneously, and re-calcified to deliver the enhanced skeletal power of their animal alter-egos. Seemingly human skin became otherworldly with fur and their feral howls masked the sudden screams of the humans they tormented as playthings.

The wolves concentrated on culling the sparse occupants of the bar whilst the she-cat and bear worked in tandem to corner angel and hunter. The vulpine duo slashed with indiscriminate ferocity, using heavy claws and savage canines to rend the unsuspecting flesh of the bar's unprepared customers. They stood no chance as the vicious animals systematically eradicated the cowering humans. Screams briefly filled the air as throats were exposed and torn apart and the tiled floor ran sickeningly red with eddying streams of warm, clotting crimson.

Dean cleared his colt from the waistband of his jeans, even as he was pushing Uriel to the relative safety of the bar counter. The angel did not resist and his eyes were bright with the realisation that they had, inadvertently, found the elusive subject of their abandoned research. He moved swiftly, his protesting knee forgotten as the carnage that the creatures were wreaking filled his consciousness.

Dean watched the female were-panther with intense concentration, unaware that Bobby and Sam had already encountered her larger mate at the abandoned farm. Maybe, had he known, he would have been thankful for her smaller stature. But she was as lithe and savage as her mate, and Dean didn't dare drop his gaze as he hurriedly backed the angel towards the relative safety of the bar. She bobbed and weaved before him, snarling her anger at them as he struggled to aim the heavy gun with his injured hand. The penetrating wound left by Belial's dagger was relatively unhealed; Raphe having concentrated on the more debilitating wounds the hunter had sustained in his protracted battle with the daemon, and now, when it really counted, Dean found he could not command enough power in his damaged hand to grip and squeeze the trigger.

The panther feigned towards the retreating men and Dean staggered back against the angel as he was forced to jerk away from her slashing paw. The two of them stumbled against the bar, bottles and glasses flying from the randomly packed shelves as they made contact. The hard impact of the bar smashing into his fragile ribs huffed the air from Dean's protesting lungs and he was helpless to stop the gun as it dropped from his poorly grasping fingers as his hand fled to defend his injured side.

The panther growled her delight as she bobbed her sleek black head at the cornered men, and her howl of pleasure chased chills down the angel's spine.

"You ok, Dean?"

Uriel's voice was low and urgent as he placed his hand gently on the hunter's uninjured shoulder as Dean struggled to get breath into his gasping lungs.

"Grab...gun..."

The words were whispered on a snatched pull of air as Dean fought to replace his rapidly diminished oxygen, stay upright and keep an eye on the 4 were-creatures surrounding them. The angel nodded his understanding and leaned round the swaying hunter, bending to reach for the gun where it lay just beyond the safety of the bar's edge.

The were-cat saw her opportunity and her savage claw came from nowhere to tear a groove in the back of the angel's hand, forcing him to withdraw from their only weapon.

"Crap!"

Uriel jerked back from the crouching panther and pulled his hand into his body as the cleaved flesh hummed with pain.

"She get ya?"

Dean's words were a little stronger as he got more air into his lungs, and Uriel looked toward him from where he crouched, facing him, behind the bar.

"Yeah, but it's not bad."

Dean's ever-present guardian reflex had him reaching out to check the heavily bleeding wound, his gaze flickering between the angel's pain-filled, white eyes and the growling amber of the she-cat.

And that was the opening the were-bear needed to make its attack.

The creature used its massive bulk to smash through the seemingly fragile structure of the bar counter, throwing Dean and Uriel to the ground with the splintering wood and twisting metal. It pushed through the fractured mahogany as if it were flimsy balsa and reached out with its massive paws for the struggling men.

Dean and Uri impacted the ground in a tumble of long, flailing limbs both twisting desperately as they attempted to escape both the bears grasping paws and the claws of the panther. Dean's already painful shoulder struck the hard concrete as he landed and his shriek of pain joined the final death keen of the human fodder of the wolf duo.

Pulses of hot, white agony blistered up and down Dean's arm as he writhed on the floor, his right hand clutched to his throbbing shoulder. He couldn't speak as acid bile filled his throat and fire-flashes of light blurred his vision.

Uriel smashed into the back of the bar, the impact jarring the shelves above, knocking down the remaining bottles and shattering glass all around them. The angel snatched up one of the broken bottles and used it to slash back at the were-cat's paw. The impromptu weapon was sharp and the angel's aim true and the panther hissed her anger as she retreated, Uriel following her slashing with his glass blade. Her paw hung useless as she snarled, the severed ends of tendons visible in the bloody rent.

Dean used her retreat to make a lunge for the colt and got his fingertips to the pearl handle just as the bear's massive paw struck his side. His ribs creaked in protest and he was knocked from the relative safety of the cover of the bar into the blood stained arena of the wolves.

Uriel closed in on the spitting cat. Her midnight black fur stood on end as the angel forced her back. The gaping wound to her paw added her blood to the growing lake on the bar-room floor and catching the feral creature off balance as the angel jabbed with a practised hand, the jagged bottle shard slashing the air before her.

Dean managed to hang onto the colt as he rolled with the momentum from the giant creature's paw. His ribs were freshly bruised with the force of the impact but the cool feel of the familiar metal and pearl beneath his gripping fingers offered him comfort. He came to his feet with close to his normal grace and the larger of the wolves fell to the accuracy of the Colt's deadly force even as Dean turned to face the bear as it charged.

Uriel did not enjoy killing, especially not such a beautiful creature as a panther, but the burning pain of his wounded hand and the knowledge that this nest of weres had butchered countless victims eased his conscience as he lunged toward the she-cat. He was an accomplished hand to hand fighter and much stronger than his slight frame would suggest. He wrapped the cat with his wiry body, his long legs trapping her hind paws and pinning her to the ground as he sought to raise the sharp glass to her throat. However, it was a ballet of lethal ferocity and who would prove supreme, was unclear.

Dean had to use both hands to steady the shaking colt as the bear lumbered toward him, its rage at the loss of its companion wolf evident in its deafening roar. Raising his arm sent waves of fresh pain radiating through him from his wrecked shoulder, and he blinked sweat away from his wide, green eyes as he sighted the gun. The first round hardly slowed the huge creature's progress and Dean was forced to backtrack hurriedly through the blood. He tried to ignore the squelch of flesh beneath his boots as he moved, his eyes too preoccupied with watching the bear and trying to spot the second wolf to bother what, or who, cooled beneath his feet.

He fired off round after round into the gigantic were creature, finally dropping the bear to the floor as it was almost upon him, the light leaving its eyes as the silver rounds stole its life force. Dean found his legs struggling to support him and his vision tunnelling and he slipped to his knees in the pooling blood. He called desperately to the angel, as he fought to stay conscious, his blurry gaze searching for the last of their unworldly attackers.

"Ur...i...el?"

The were-wolf was motionless, its thin face utterly still in contemplation of the carnage as its ice blue eyes held Dean's wavering green. The gasping hunter felt its hatred arrow toward him but the wolf did not make a move. He willed his hands to raise the gun from where it hung uselessly before him as he sat on his heels in the blood, but the fire in his shoulder and his growing nausea stopped him. The wolf recognised the realisation of desperate vulnerability cross the hunter's pale features. It licked its lips then, the copper tang of death appetising to its unnatural palette, as it anticipated the sweet taste of Winchester blood.

Try as he might the angel could not overcome the were-panther. She twisted and turned in his strong embrace, her claws tearing tiny furrows of red against his skin as he fought to make the dispatching cut to her throat. He needed to finish her so he could go to Dean's aid. The hunter had taken down two of the weres and the angel knew his lingering injuries were too raw to stand much more.

He had seen the bear charge down the hunter, had watched as Dean scrabbled desperately backwards out of the creature's path, firing again and again, each squeeze of the trigger pulling an unconscious cry of pain from his dry lips. The bear's thunderous collapse was like music to Uriel's ears and had momentarily drowned out the hissing of the she-cat. But then he had lost sight of the hunter as he had been forced to quickly return his focus to the panther in his own desperate struggle for survival.

"Dean!"

The angel's breathless voice drew the hunter's eyes from the imposing wolf and the kneeling man rolled his head drunkenly to find the source of the cry. It was clearly a struggle, as darkness hovered close to wavering consciousness, but Dean swallowed down the nausea and tightened his grip as the Colt weaved in his injured grasp, trying to find a clear shot to take out the snarling panther.

The wolf used the opportunity to rise and slink slowly toward the wary humans.

"How...many...rounds...left?"

Uriel shouted. His breathing was laboured and he could feel his arms tiring rapidly as the sleek cat snapped again for his throat, her claws tearing another groove in his bicep.

"One...I hope!"

Dean gasped as he somehow found the strength to rise to his feet and stagger through the blood and body part orgy towards the angel where he struggled in the cat's savage embrace. The floor was slick and Dean was already unsteady on his feet but dare not watch where he walked because he was painfully aware that the remaining wolf was somewhere in the dim bar, stalking both himself and the angel. Thus it was no surprise when Dean found his feet slipping out from under him and the floor rushing up to meet his flailing body.

The were-wolf leapt from its position of cover beneath the remains of the bar towards the tumbling hunter, its powerful, grey-furred body emanating destruction, but even as he fell Dean was ready for the attack. The colt came up in his tight grip and he bit back the pain in his injured hand to squeeze off the last silver round into the body of the pouncing beast.

Uriel's cry of warning was matched by a roar from the she-cat as the wolf exploded past them targeting the hunter. The sudden appearance of the second were creature was a distraction for the panther, her attention momentarily diverted towards her wolf companion, and Uriel took the opportunity of her loosened grip on him to raise the broken bottle in his hand.

The bullet registered only a glancing blow to the werewolf's side but blood coloured the grey fur and it twisted in the air, landing to Dean's side rather than barrelling into him as it had intended. The wound was enough to persuade the beast that flight rather than fight might, on this occasion, be the best course of action, and the wolf kicked hard with its powerful hind legs, its claws catching Dean a glancing blow below his left eye, as it leapt for the exit door of the bar.

The angel raised the broken bottle in his hand and dragged the sharp glass across the throat of the were-cat as she spat and hissed in his hands. Claws rent his skin but he held fast as her body gradually stilled, her warm blood joining that of her victims on the bar room floor. Uriel threw the stilled black carcass to the ground and pulled himself groaning from the floor. He stumbled the few steps to the hunter, kneeling beside Dean's prone form.

"Dean?"

Uriel placed his hand gently on the hunter's chest and was relieved when alert if slightly out of focus green eyes met his own.

"You OK?"

The angel could feel Dean's heart beat strongly beneath his hand as the hunter nodded.

"Yeah..."

Dean glanced at the hand, his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"Hey man, don't go getting blood on my good shirt!"

Uriel laughed and glanced at the liberal coating of blood covering both of them.

"Gonna want to 'borrow' another shirt I guess?"

He raised his eyebrow questioningly and Dean nodded, the smile intensifying.

"White this time maybe? But I'll stick with Armani. They fit well."

He ran his hand down his tight abs, smearing the blood and dirt even more down the black T.

"Sure, Dean."

Uriel's smile matched Dean's as he shifted his hand to the hunter's bicep helping pull him upright as they both struggled, groaning to their feet.

The hunter swayed obviously as they stood and the angel casually retained his grip, watching as the hunter bit down his pain.

"You OK?"

He asked again, and Dean nodded, his gaze travelling around the slaughterhouse that the bar had suddenly become.

"Maybe we should have..."

He paused, his hand snaking to his re-bruised ribs. He coughed gently and the angel increased his grip gently.

"Have just gone to the library... like Sam suggested?"

Uriel followed his gaze, swallowing down the acid bile that he found rising in his throat as he looked at the destruction their fight had left in its wake.

"Let's get outta here."

Uriel's words were soft and the angel turned to make for the door. The rotational movement jarred on his old knee injury, drawing a hiss of temporarily forgotten pain.

"Hold on..."

Dean staggered a few steps to his left and bent stiffly to retrieve the angel's cane from the debris. He offered the carved handle to Uriel.

"Thanks."

The angel's pure white eyes bored into Dean's tired green, deeply conscious that without the hunter's intervention he would likely not have made it out of the bar.

"You're welcome, Uriel."

Dean smiled his response.

"Come 's get outta here."

They made wearily for the door, the coppery stench of death clinging to them as they staggered into the cool night air.

wWw

Sam stormed out of the library and down the steps at a pace that left Bobby almost running to keep up. The older man could feels waves of both anger and fear rolling off the hunter and he reached out to catch Sam's arm, half ready to duck if the tall man decided to throw a punch. Sam did not lash out but his eyes betrayed a wealth of feeling as Bobby's hand on his arm drew him to a halt.

"Where the hell are they, Bobby?"

The older man moved to speak, only to be silenced by Sam's urgency.

"They were going to the library to do the research. He promised, Bobby, and they just might have been out of danger in there. Why the Hell, can he not just play safe once in a while?"

Sam was moving again heading for the impala.

"Sam! Slow down."

Bobby bumped into the tall hunter as he stopped abruptly, fishing into his jeans pocket. Sam pulled his cell phone out and dialled Dean's number, bouncing from foot to foot with a nervous energy bordering on rage as he waited for connection.

"He has so got some explaining to do!"

wWw

The muted strains of AC/DC cut insistently through the sudden quiet outside the blood- drenched bar as Uriel and Dean stiffly negotiated the few steps to the pavement. Dean reached into his jeans pocket and cringed slightly as he mouthed the word 'Sam' to the angel. Uriel nodded and halted at the bottom step, clinging gratefully to the railing post, keen to see what entertainment the ensuing conversation might provide. Amusement animated his angular face as he eavesdropped and Dean found himself smiling sheepishly as he answered his brother's worried greeting, wondering what he was going to say to explain their unplanned change of location to Sam.

"Hey, bro."

The younger Winchester felt his immediate panic subside as Dean's relatively healthy, if exhausted sounding, voice echoed tinnily through the little cell phone speaker, but he hung onto his residual anger, awaiting Dean's explanation. The pause was awkward and his demonstrable silence made Bobby grimace as Dean babbled into the pregnant silence.

"You ok, Sammy?"

Dean continued and the familiar question both comforted and irritated Sam. He answered it partially as a reflex action and partially because if he didn't he knew there was no chance he could move Dean on to find out why he had not gone to the library as agreed.

"I'm fine, Dean. Do you wanna explain where the hell you and Uriel are?"

Beside him, Bobby rolled his eyes at Sam's patronising tone but knew well enough to hold his tongue.

"Well Sam, we picked up on a lead when we were at the library and ..."

"Don't lie to me."

Sam's cold voice rumbled ominously from the cell phone and Dean's guilt at worrying his brother, coupled with the sudden adrenaline slump, post were encounter, began to niggle at his various aches and pains enough to make him equally as cranky. Thus, his response mirrored Sam's simmering irritation.

"Sam..."

The single word was a warning to back off but Dean found his words cut right across by his brother's low but powerful voice.

"You were never even in the library, Dean. The clerk remembers seeing the pair of you hover outside briefly but you didn't even cross the threshold and then she watched you both saunter off down the street towards the local bar."

Dean winced, his anger quickly dissipated by his brother's obvious anxiety. He sucked in a breath, feeling it jar his sore ribs and suddenly he was aware how drained the struggle with the were-creatures had left him. He glanced up at the angel who shrugged sympathetically, understanding both his guilt and sudden exhaustion.

"Brothers!"

Uriel mouthed the word softly and Dean raised his eyebrow in response before trying again to get a word in with his furious brother. The angel could feel tiredness rolling from the hunter in waves, and though the heated exchange was somewhat amusing, he was beginning to worry about Dean's increasingly wobbly stance. He glanced around them, scoping the parking lot to see if there was somewhere he could get Dean to sit down whilst he talked.

"Sam..."

Dean tried again to intervene in Sam's tirade. However the younger Winchester's annoyance was still evident and he was not yet ready to let his brother off the hook.

"And don't bother wasting my time with one of your ridiculous explanations, Dean. I really am in no mood to listen. Not after what Bobby and I have just seen."

Hearing that Dean's own problems were pushed aside as his autonomic big brother instinct immediately kicked in.

"What did you find, Sam? Are you and Bobby alright? You hurt?"

Concern was evident in Dean's words, but even his genuine solicitude did nothing to soften Sam's ire.

"Just tell me where the hell you are, Dean, so Bobby and I can come and get you."

Dean huffed out a frustrated breath and Uriel unobtrusively moved a step closer to the hunter as he swayed a little more on his feet.

"Sam, cut me some slack here. Are you both ok?"

Dean's heart was pounding with concern and reciprocal annoyance at Sam's pissy attitude. And, if he were truthful, he was beginning to have difficulty concentrating on the conversation as the ground started to spin vertiginously beneath his feet and he knew, if he didn't sit down soon, that it would likely rush to meet him.

Uriel watched the peevish attitude of the younger Winchester exhaust the last reserves of strength of his injured brother, and was surprised how angry he found himself that Sam would be so thoughtless with his sibling. Granted, he had no way of knowing that they had just waded out of a particularly bloody cat fight, well wolf, cat and bear fight if he was technically accurate, but that made no odds. Surely Sam could hear the exhaustion in Dean's voice? Hell, even Uriel, who'd known the boys only briefly, could hear Dean's struggle.

The angel found himself wanting to take the phone from Dean and tell Sam to watch his smart mouth, but he knew Dean would not thank him. However he was damned if he was gonna let Sam come pick them up like naughty children. He cast about the lot looking for a transportation alternate.

Dean had closed his eyes briefly against the rising nausea and tried to slow his breathing as he found panic beginning to invade his fading consciousness, and so he started as the angel's hand touched his arm. He pulled his eyes open and forced himself to find the shining white of the angel's gaze.

"Dean, we don't need him to collect us. Tell Sam we'll meet them at Bobby's."

The angel bobbed his head slightly, not totally sure where Dean's centre of vision was and was relieved when Dean's emerald eyes found his.

"We don't?"

"No, we damn well don't."

Uriel gently took the cell from Dean's hand as he spoke and raised it to his ear as Sam's petulant voice echoed from the tiny handset.

"Will you answer me, Dean? Where the hell are you?"

Sam was surprised to hear Uriel respond.

"We'll see you back at Bobby's, Sam. We have our own ride."

And even more surprised to hear the abrupt dial tone in his ear.

Chapter ends.


	18. Chapter 18

**So Not An Angel! By DeansbabyBird **

Chapter 18 Boys On A Harley Machine

The rush of air was cool but invigorating and Dean found himself grateful that he had reluctantly listened to Uriel and agreed to share their ride. He knew that he would have had difficulty working his stiffening shoulder enough to steer the powerful machine himself.

Still, it rankled a bit that he was relegated to pillion. It was bad enough when he occasionally had to let Sam drive his baby, but at least he was confident that his brother knew better than to hold it over his head. Uriel, however? He knew at some stage the grinning angel would find a way to use this against him. That said though, it beat the shit outta having a sanctimonious Sammy come collect him in the Impala like some baby at the school gates. So, he bit his tongue and concentrated on clinging onto his own 'Hell's Angel' and enjoying the ride.

Their 'borrowed' Harley was a sleek heritage soft tail, complete with the original tall sissy bars, and its shiny chrome and black leather was in lovingly cared for condition. Dean assumed it was one of the Were's machines, as there were 4 similarly pristine hogs outside the blood stained bar and none of the bar's patrons, before their untimely demise, had looked like hog riders. Thus, he had few reservations when Uriel had liberated this one for their return to Bobby's.

The bike made a deep, throaty growl as the angel gunned it along the highway and Dean found the similarity in its voice to that of the Impala easily reassuring. He felt himself relaxing, even as the wind tugged at his sweat drenched hair, and amusingly sleep began to overcome him as they sped along.

Uriel had not been surprised with the ease at which he had persuaded Dean to purloin one of the vintage motorcycles for their escape, but it had shocked him that the hunter had agreed to ride pillion on the one machine. He had expected to have to cajole or plead, so recognised quickly that his companion must be feeling pretty crappy if he could admit that his brittle shoulder left him in no fit state to handle the weight of the machine. Thankfully, Uriel was, for once, sensitive enough not to goad the hunter. He could save that for later!

Thus, Uriel found himself tearing up the dirt road towards Bobby's with Dean's sleepy form pressed close to his back, his arm draped loosely about Uriel's waist and the angel rehearsing his story for a, no doubt incandescent, Sam.

wWw

Bobby heard the throaty growl of the approaching Harley and made hurriedly for his Remington sawn off from its perpetual place by the door. He knew the Were's were bikers in their human form, and that the approaching machine was likely the herald of the remaining pack members, following his and Sam's scent from the den.

"Sam!"

He yelled towards the rear of the house, hoping the younger hunter hadn't had time to get under the shower, and was relieved to see him running barefoot but otherwise fully clothed towards him, his own shotgun in his hand.

"They find us? Is it the Weres?"

Sam whispered as he hit the lights, illuminating the yard outside the front door and joined Bobby as he stepped, barrel raised, onto the porch.

"Maybe so."

Bobby responded, confusion resonating in his deep voice.

"But why the hell ride right up to the door? Why not go for a stealth attack?"

He glanced at Sam and shared understanding crossed their faces as the bike growled to a stop before them in a cloud of dust.

wWw

The sudden cessation of the steady cadence of the bike's engine woke Dean gently from his slumbers; and he raised his head from Uriel's shoulder, leaning carefully back onto the sissy bars behind him, as the angel braced his feet at either side to hold the heavy bike in the dirt.

"What the hell..?"

Bobby muttered as he cast his eyes fearfully back in the direction the bike had approached from, anticipating the trailing pack of vengeful Were's. Thus he was pleasantly surprised to find none appearing. The bemused hunters lowered their weapons and stepped from the porch to greet the Harley machine and its odd combination of easy riders.

Sam's eyes went immediately to his older brother and took in the new tear under his eye and the liberal coating of blood decorating his shirt and jeans. He saw, too, the weary nod of Dean's head and the slight unfocussed look in his wide green eyes, and the anger he had been holding onto largely dissipated in the face of his brother's obvious exhaustion.

"Are you ok?"

As he spoke, Sam's hands went to the bloody tear on Dean's cheek and the older man twisted his head, trying to escape the probing fingers.

"It's nothing, Sam."

The younger hunter humpfed, but acquiesced seeing that the facial wound was fairly superficial. He moved his hands down to the blood stained T, trying to pull the base of the shirt loose to check his brother's torso for new wounds. But the shirt was a tight fit and, combined with Dean's squirming, deterred his ministrations.

"Sam!"

Dean complained loudly.

"I'm fine. Leave it will ya?"

Sam raised his hands in mock surrender and took a step back as Dean made to dismount the Harley. It would have been a convincing demonstration of his protests were it not for the fact that as soon as his feet touched the ground Dean's legs seemed to turn to jell-o and only the combined catch of Sam, Bobby and Uriel stopped him sprawling to the floor.

After a moments swaying though, the older Winchester found his sea-legs and led the way into Bobby's home, reluctantly anticipating the wearying round of explanations he knew Sam was gonna demand of him.

wWw

Uriel accepted the mug of steaming coffee gratefully from Bobby and lifted it carefully to his lips with his left hand, only now realising how parched he actually was. The fight had exhausted him enough, but the ensuing detailed explanations demanded by Sam and Bobby had depleted his reserves further. He sipped the bitter coffee gratefully, looking for the caffeine kick to revive him a little.

His right hand was languishing in the bowl of holy water that the old hunter had similarly provided, the large wound caused by the were cat's claws fizzing softly in the sanctified liquid. The necessary cleansing of the supernatural injury smarted like the devil but, despite his soreness, he couldn't help but smile at the battle going on between the Winchester brothers.

"Sam, No!"

Dean was sitting, his booted feet firmly on the floor and his back pressed tightly to the spindles of the upright chair. It was the only slight attempt at escape he could make from his determined brother, as his legs were still too wobbly to support him walking very far.

Discomfort and tiredness oozed from him in equal measure to the petulance that was directed at his brother. Sam stood not a foot away from him, scissors in hand and an uncompromising look on his face.

"Not this one. You are not cutting this one off. It's Armani, dude, and I look real good in it!"

Sam couldn't help but smile. There was Dean, beat up as usual; blood congealing on his face and right hand and his left arm cradled protectively into his body defending his shoulder yet again, but his major concern was suddenly for the haut couture element of supernatural hunting!

"Dean, I need to check that shoulder and in case you hadn't noticed you have countless huge splinters sticking outta you man."

To emphasise his point Sam leaned into his brother and pulled a piece of the shattered bar from Dean's forearm.

"Ouch!"

The older Winchester jumped and stared balefully into Sam's slightly amused hazel eyes.

"Well, then, let me cut the shirt off and check you over!"

Uriel laughed softly, catching Bobby's amused eye roll as he came to the rescue to break the en passé.

"Dean!"

The older Winchester risked shifting his eyes briefly from his scissor wielding brother to look at the angel where he sat at the opposite end of Bobby's big kitchen table. Uri noted the stiffness of the hunter's movement, his whole body twisting at the waist instead of moving his neck. Dean's shoulder was real sore again, anyone could see that, and Uriel found himself feeling slightly guilty, knowing that if they had left the bar when Dean wanted to the ensuing bloody and bruising fight might have been avoided. He looked into pale green eyes that softly radiated pain but, thankfully, no anticipated blame.

"You can have the white T just like that one that I promised. Just let Sam cut it off and look at your shoulder. You landed real heavy on it when the were-bear threw ya."

Dean's face softened slightly at the prospect of Armani riches, but only momentarily before his frown and possessive hold on the T-shirt returned.

"But I really like the black one."

His voice bordered on a whine and Uriel smiled as he watched Bobby turn away, suppressing his laughter. Sam sighed and moved to take hold of the sleeve of his brother's shirt, only to have him twist away, hissing in pain at the movement.

"For god's sake, Dean!"

Exasperation born of anxiety fuelled Sam's words.

"It's a damned shirt, is all..."

Dean's slightly un-focussed eyes smiled up playfully at his brother.

"Ah Sammy...See, I can tell you have never worn Armani or you wouldn't talk like that."

The older Winchester seductively stroked the filthy, blood stained cotton, tease written in emerald green.

The room was saved from Sam's, no doubt profane, response by the approaching hum of a car engine. Humour instantaneously became practised safety drill.

"Uriel. Hit the lights."

Bobby nodded to the switch, indicating the angel should dim the house lights to give the hunters a better view of the approaching vehicle and its occupants. He grabbed his shotgun, as did Sam, and they made for the windows. Dean drew his colt from his waistband as he rose on somewhat steady feet to join Sam.

The approaching car was an unremarkable rental but the darkened glass made it difficult to tell who, or indeed what, was driving it. However, as Uriel reached out to the vehicle he was in no doubt that it was driven by a welcome face.

"Raphe!"

The word fell from the angel's lips in the same moment that Dean voiced his delight at his friend's arrival. Sam glanced at Dean as Bobby caught Uriel's arm, stopping him as he made for the door.

"You sure, boy? Anyone with him?"

Uri nodded, amused at Bobby's 'boy'.

"Yes, Bobby, I'm sure. I have known him for millennia. It's safe, it's just Raphe."

The angel glanced at Bobby's restraining hand but the hunter did not release his grip.

"Maybe you have."

Bobby's face was respectful but serious.

"But you're not a hunter and ..."

Uriel's eyes flashed dangerously and he looked again at Bobby's hand where it rested on his arm.

"Old man, I have hunted things that would drive you to despair to cast your eyes upon. I have held in my hand lives beyond measure and I know my own brother when he stands before me."

Uriel's voice was soft and calm but it commanded belief and respect and Bobby lowered his hand immediately, his face pale with the sudden recollection that the creature before him was ethereal and divine.

"I'm sorry..."

The angel cut off the hunter's words with a genuine smile and Bobby stood aside to let Uriel open the door to greet his brother.

wWw

Dean felt Sam's hand similarly touch his forearm as he made to follow the angel. He paused and found focus on Sam's worried face.

"You 'knew' it was Raphael?"

Dean hesitated, confusion briefly crossing his face, before a smile of acceptance and understanding replaced it.

"Yeah...yeah, Sam. I did."

Bobby watched the exchange with interest. He was heartened to see Dean's earlier discomfort with his connection to the angels eroded, but there was no missing Sam's poorly hidden disquiet.

"How? How do you know it's Raphe?"

The old hunter waited for Dean to bristle but was delighted as the older Winchester smiled deeper, his eyes creasing with pleasure.

"It's a feeling inside me. Like I can hear his heart beat or something..."

The younger Winchester nodded slowly, letting go of Dean's arm and allowing him to follow Uriel.

Sam was reeling. He felt a sudden and irrational jealousy at Dean's words and his connection with the healer angel. He glanced at Bobby knowing it was evident on his face, and found empathy written on the older man's grizzled features. However, it did nothing to assuage his growing feeling of betrayal.

Chapter ends


	19. Chapter 19

**So Not An Angel! By DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 19. The Gates of Hell

Uriel was first out the door and across the dirt track to greet Raphael and Bobby found himself surprised that the angels embraced warmly in greeting. For some reason he had expected divine restraint in their acknowledgment of each other but was instead met with an unreserved display of brotherly affection. Bobby found himself smiling; pleased somehow these creatures of dreams were so human and unaffected.

"It's good to see you, brother. I have missed you."

Raphe's deep voice carried through the darkness as he looked over his brother's shoulder to the hunters on the porch, nodding in greeting to them, also. Dean moved down the steps as the angels spoke, making his way slowly but determinedly towards them.

"What on earth have you been up to?"

The healer touched Uriel's still dripping hand as they released their embrace and stepped apart as Uriel grinned sheepishly, holding his bloody hand up for inspection.

"We had an adventure with some Weres, Raphe."

Raphael nodded his amusement as Dean reached him. The healer took in the elder Winchester's slow pace, hunched stance and slight sway.

"It is good to see you as well, Dean, I take it you were playing with the Weres, too?"

Raphe's smile was warm and concerned and Sam frowned, watching closely as his brother's face shifted to mirror the affection the angel was displaying.

"Something like that. I'm glad you're here, Raphael."

The two men held their ground for a moment as an un-spoken understanding passed between them before each stepped forward and embraced. Bobby heard Sam's near silent intake of breath at Dean's ease in the older angel's presence and saw the young hunter's grip tighten imperceptibly on the stock of the shotgun.

"Easy, Sam. He's on our side, remember?"

Sam's eyes flickered to Bobby's and he nodded curtly, embarrassed to have been caught in his jealousy.

"Mr Singer? I'm Raphael."

Raphael held his hand out to the older hunter as the party moved back to the porch.

"I'm pleased to finally meet you. We have watched over your work with interest."

Bobby's eyes widened in surprise as he gripped the angel's hand.

"You have?"

The innocent amazement in the old man's voice was amusing and Raphe smiled kindly.

"Yes, we have. But I think you know that. I think you have often felt my presence, have you not?"

Bobby stared in bemusement at the grinning angel. He had, on occasion, felt that something watched over him but the pragmatic hunter had dismissed it as wishful thinking. To have it confirmed for him was staggering. He nodded slowly, his voice betraying his amazement.

"Well, I'll be damned!"

He looked up in horror at his choice of words.

"Sorry! I didn't think it was really...didn't think that when I called...I didn't know if ...if you were real."

The hunter stopped, too overwhelmed to continue. The angel extended his long arm and threw it around Bobby's shoulder.

"His kingdom is never far from those who choose to look for it, Bobby. It is just that most people will not open their eyes to see."

The hunter smiled then, his grizzled face betraying his wonder at the angel's statement and Raphael squeezed his shoulder.

"Shall we go inside? We have much to discuss, I think, and I also have my patients to attend to."

Bobby gathered himself.

"Sure, Raphael. You're welcome in my home."

"As will you be in our Father's, Bobby."

The angel said softly as they went inside.

wWw

Raguel smiled at Jo as she took the cold Bud from his huge hand and tipped her head back, feeling the cool liquid salve her parched throat. The bitter brew helped wash the taste of sulphur from her mouth and she leaned against the SUV tiredly, savouring the opportunity to rest a moment as she drank.

She had spent the days since leaving Dean and Sam helping the angels turn back the minor demons that had thrown themselves dementedly at the sealed gates. One or two had even made it through to the corporeal side of the divide and she had witnessed firsthand the power of the angels as Raguel, Michael and Raphael, before his departure, had bound and returned the demon-kind to their despised internment.

The stench of demon sulphur filled the air and Jo took another swig of her beer as she stretched her aching muscles.

"They seem to have gone quiet for the moment, Raguel."

The big angel wiped the sweat from his brow and sipped his own bottle as he nodded.

"Yeah. It would seem so, Jo. How long do you suppose it'll last?"

He didn't smile however, and Jo could feel the undiminished tension within him, even as they took their break.

"What do you think has slowed them down?"

Jo tipped her head towards the sealed gates that represented the entrance to Hades which had been their battle zone with the demon hordes over the last few days. The gate seals were currently being guarded by Michael, their companion, the Prince of Angels. His strong, quiet form was shadowed by the insidious darkness that oozed from the shuddering gates but the integrity of the seals held tight under his intervention and Jo felt reassured by his powerful presence.

"I don't know. The activity here has been far greater than we have seen for many years. You know we all think it's Belial's doing. Since Dean helped us bind him and return him to Hades the lesser demon kind incarcerated here have been very disquieted."

"He's that powerful? Belial? Capable of stirring them all up like that?"

Raguel pouted his lips around the bottleneck as he pulled on his beer, thinking.

"Belial's an interesting daemon, Jo. He's vicious and cruel but there's just something about him..."

The angel sipped his beer, his bright blue eyes staring off into the distance as he thought back to his previous encounters with the daemon. Jo let him ponder, grateful for the moment's respite.

"I hesitate to use the word but I guess you could say he's...well, for a daemon... charismatic, Jo."

Jo nodded.

"Makes him even more dangerous I guess. The others in there..."

She pointed the open neck of her beer bottle towards the ornate gates.

"Are way more likely to follow him if he's personable..."

She laughed.

"Or is that daemon-able?"

Raguel joined in her laughter.

"Do you think Michael is right about how we solve this?"

Jo dropped the empty bottle back into the cooler as Raguel glanced over into the oppressive darkness that surrounded his brother. When his steady gaze returned to hers absolute confidence shone in his face.

"Michael is sure that the demon activity is due to Belial's influence. It seems that, although he does not seem yet to have enough power to break free himself, he has enough to persuade others to hurl themselves at the gates. He's testing the integrity of our hold on the locks with the bodies of his brethren and, of course, testing our resolve too."

Jo's serious expression showed she understood as Raguel continued.

"Michael believes that we need the combined power of we four brother angels to have any chance to bind Belial firmly enough to return him, once and for all, to Tartarus. That's what was wrong this last time; Michael's power was not there to augment ours."

"So you used Dean's power?"

The dark skinned angel nodded as he placed the cooler back in the SUV.

"Well, really Dean used his power, Jo, to boost ours. We couldn't take it and use it without him allowing us."

He paused, his face quizzical.

"At least, I don't think we could?"

He shook his head, dismissing the thought.

"It's academic anyway, as no angel would ever force a human to do such a thing."

Jo nodded as he continued.

"But you're right, without Dean's power there is no way we would have bound Belial but, see, the problem is his power is raw and he has not learned yet how to direct it, so Dean is something of a loose cannon. Just as we drew it in and utilised it then so, technically, could daemon-kind."

"Dean would never allow that."

Jo's words were emphatic in the defence of her friend as they walked back towards the gates. Raguel smiled apologetically at the tiny huntress.

"I know he would never willingly allow his gift to be corrupted, Jo, but Belial would use every method he had to coerce Dean if he got out and he might have no choice."

The mismatched pair had reached Michael as they chatted and the Prince of Angels nodded solemnly as he heard and understood the end of their conversation.

"It's true, Jo. I believe absolutely that Dean would never choose to side with evil against us but Belial is a clever manipulator and he has corrupted many good men in his time..."

Jo raised her small hand in the angel's face and Raguel grinned as the diminutive huntress' gesture halted the Prince of Heaven in his tracks.

"No! Dean would die first. You saw that, Michael. He was near dead when we recovered him from the cellar at 'My Tartarus'...he had borne more than anyone could have been expected to."

Her voice faltered as memories of the horrific injuries the elder Winchester had sustained as he held out against the daemon flooded her mind.

"He would give his life before he would aid a daemon."

Her eyes locked on the angel daring him to challenge her and Michael was humbled before her resolve. He trod gently as he answered, unwilling to offend this woman whose spirit and loyalty he greatly admired.

"I agree, Jo that Dean would sacrifice himself willingly before he would allow the power that is his to be used for evil but..."

He glanced at Raguel and found bright blue eyes that offered understanding of what he must say, but supplied no easy way to do so.

"But what if Belial used Sam or Bobby or you, against Dean? What if he threatened to harm you or Sam unless Dean helped him?"

Michael watched Jo face the possibility she had always known was a real threat but had pushed to the back of her mind. Her pretty face twisted in distress.

"I'd never want Dean to..."

She stopped, seeing the soft understanding in Michael's eyes.

"I know you wouldn't want him to, Jo, but if Belial was free and held you or Sam in his power, do you think Dean could really hold out against him?"

The angel's unnerving violet eyes demanded Jo's as he spoke and she could not turn away from him, though she wanted to. She knew Dean would suffer anything if it were just himself, but threaten Sam..? That was a whole different ball game. She swallowed against the terror growing in her heart.

"No. I accept, that would be different. Dean would do anything he could to protect us. Even if it meant that...that he had to give himself to that creature."

She shuddered, unknowingly hugging her jacket to herself as she imagined the agony that would cause her friend. Raguel's heart went out to the girl and he placed his huge arm around her shoulders.

"So, let's be damn sure we keep him here until Raphael returns with Uriel and the 4 of us are together to perform the final binding."

He squeezed her tightly and Jo stretched her arm up around his neck returning the hug as her other hand sought Michael's forearm.

"Yeah, let's lock him down till we can finish this for good."

wWw

Raphael smiled his thanks as Bobby placed the steaming mug of coffee before him on the table and resumed his examination of Uriel's torn hand. Dean sat to his left, his face pensive, the angel's words having disturbed him far more than he cared to admit. Sam pushed himself up from his slouch against the doorframe and moved to take up the fourth chair, his face dark and brooding.

"So, you're saying that the binding forced Belial back into Hell but not all the way to Tartarus, not into maximum security Hades-style?"

Raphe's expressive face smiled at the hunter's contemporary choice of words but he nodded.

"Just so, Sam. Well put! Belial is safe in the outer reaches of Hades but there he can mix with and influence many other of his kind. We need to segregate him, back to the depths of Tartarus, before he can goad enough of his brethren to insurrection and together they breach the gates."

"And to do this the four of you, Uriel included, need to be before the gates?"

Bobby sipped his coffee as he spoke. The angel shook his head.

"Well, No. We don't actually have to be at the gates but the four of us do need to be together and Michael is reluctant to leave now and come here as Belial's mutinous actions are resulting in a lot of undesirable activity in that area."

Raphe looked at the older hunter as he explained and Bobby nodded his understanding.

"So, what are we waiting for, Raphe? Heal me and let's get back on the road. I want to take down that bastard so bad I can taste it!"

Uriel spoke animatedly, his impatience to be reunited with his other brothers palpable. Energy buzzed from him as he sat, his wounded hand restrained in Raphael's, his impatience barely controlled.

The older angel's worried eyes turned to his brother's.

"Uriel, this is a dangerous time and haste will not improve the situation."

Uri's lip threatened a sneer but he contained it as Raphe's commanding gaze bore into him.

"We will go to the gate when, and only when I am certain that it is completely safe to leave Dean. Somehow Belial is connected to him, and, until I am assured that connection cannot be exploited to threaten him, we stay here."

The elder Winchester had been silent throughout the discussions but at the mention of his name he finally lifted his eyes from the table top and met those of his healer mentor.

"You're worried I'll somehow let Mikey..."

He shook his head in frustration.

"Belial, I mean, Belial, get to me and that I'll fuck the whole plan up?"

Guilt flooded Dean's jaded green eyes and Raphe moved quickly to correct him.

"Dean, we already know that the daemon can connect to you. That's what has been happening in your 'dreams' since the binding. The last time, he was able to bust open the sutures in your shoulder."

The angel eyes followed as Dean's hand self-consciously tracked to his wound.

"Yeah..?"

Bobby's gruff voice re-entered the conversation.

"What was that about, Raphe? Are you saying this daemon is able to control Dean, somehow? Is that how he was able to bust his shoulder like that?"

Raphael studied the hunter before him as Bobby's direct question hummed in the tense atmosphere of the small kitchen. Distress oozed from Dean and was evident for everyone in the room as his pale face and shallow breathing were impossible to hide. Raphe concentrated his attention solely on Dean as the frantic hunter's eyes sought his, desperate for reassurance.

"Belial could theoretically possess you, just as he could any creature, Dean, but you know better than most how to avoid that and you also have us for back up."

He gestured to the other occupants of the room and Dean's breathing steadied slightly.

"Michael, Raguel and I have spoken at length about the binding and what transpired there and we think we understand now what happened."

The angel briefly broke his contact and glanced across at Uriel.

"Brother, you will stop me if what I say does not make sense to you. We missed your input in the debate and it was you who brought Dean into the ribbon of light that bound Belial. So if we have it wrong, you will say?"

Uriel smiled at his brother, grateful to not be excluded from the debate.

"You betcha, Raphe."

The older being smiled benignly before continuing.

"We believe that Dean has a unique gift and that gift is different to any we have seen in a human before."

"So, he isn't a warrior-healer?"

Sam's voice was more strident than he intended it to be, his concern for his brother colouring his words. Raphael let the tone go, understanding his worries. He directed his words back to Dean.

"No, you are not a warrior-healer, Dean."

He paused, seeing loss and regret in the elder Winchester's face.

"Warrior-healers are symbiotic creatures, their power is gifted by an angel to them and they are strongest when they are in close apposition to their gifter."

The faces around the table nodded as Raphe continued.

"You were not given this power, Dean. We believe it was always within you."

"But I have never been able to heal before, Raphe..."

Dean's confused face desperately sought answers from the angel.

"Had you ever tried?"

Raphael asked and Dean was a little taken aback by the simple question. He opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again silently.

"You're saying he could always heal people?"

Sam couldn't keep the incredulity from his voice as he glanced from his brother's pale face to the angel's, seeking answers.

"Most likely."

Raphael smiled at Dean as he responded, trying to reassure the confused man.

"But I couldn't...I didn't know what to do until..."

Dean faltered and Uriel's voice chimed in to finish for him.

"Until Raphe showed you the way."

The hunter glanced at the blond angel and Uri continued.

"Raphe healed you and you saw what to do?"

Dean processed the information slowly, gradually returning his gaze to Raphael, wonder in his eyes.

"Yeah, I saw...no, felt...what you did to heal me and I... there was...suddenly there was this surge within me..."

His words trailed away as he paused unsure how to describe it further.

"That was, we believe, the power within you, Dean. Power which we had begged for you to release at the binding. After that, as you were recuperating, you pushed it back down inside you until my energy flowing into you as I attempted to heal you reawakened it."

"Why did it hurt? To use it..? To be healed..? Why did it hurt like hell if I'm some natural healer? I don't understand, Raphe!"

The angel could hear an edge of hysteria or rage, maybe, in the hunter's words and he breathed slow and steady, trying to remain calm to help Dean anchor himself, as he pressed on with his explanations.

"I believe it hurt you to be healed because your energy makes you hypersensitive to others who have similar power. Your recognition of my power twitched your own..."

He paused to allow the reeling hunter to process the information and started as Sam's voice chipped in, reminding him that there were others in the room beside he and Dean.

"You knew they were coming..."

Sam was staring at his brother and he waited until he had eye contact before he continued.

"When we were at the motel. I thought it was just the pain and you were chanting to hold it at bay but you were saying over and over, 'They're coming, have to get away'."

Dean's frightened eyes widened in recognition of Sam's words.

"You knew the angel's were coming then, didn't you? You could sense them? Feel their energy approaching?"

Sam's voice was a mixture of awe and annoyance that did nothing to reassure Dean. He nodded.

"And the Weres? You knew, could tell, they weren't human couldn't you?"

Dean's eyes widened again, confirming the angel's suspicions but he said nothing.

"Do we all 'feel' different?"

Uriel's white eyes bored deeply into Dean and he shivered involuntarily. He hated being the focus of attention, especially for something like this.

"Yes."

Dean's voice was no more than a whisper, soft and almost apologetic.

"How are we different?"

Uriel was genuinely interested so Raphe allowed the question. Dean looked into the healer's eyes.

"Your energy is..."

He paused, struggling to explain.

"It's soothing, cool...almost..."

Raphael smiled in apology.

"Except when I unleash it on you without warning!"

Dean winced, reliving the pain of the healings.

"Yeah..."

He managed a weak smile back at the angel.

"And the Weres?"

Uriel repeated.

"The Weres were...just hungry."

Dean's nose wrinkled in distaste at the memory.

"And me? What do you feel from me, Dean? How is my energy?"

Uriel provoked, and Dean snarked back.

"Prickly!"

Raphael laughed at his brother's crest-fallen look as did the other members of the gathering, until Sam's quiet voice broke the atmosphere with the question the others had been hesitant to ask.

"And Belial, Dean? What does a daemon's energy feel like?"

Dean's gasp was audible and Sam immediately regretted the question, seeing the distress it caused his sibling. The older Winchester dropped his eyes to the table top, unable to find the words to describe the horror of the daemon's touch. Uneasy Seconds passed and it was left to Bobby to break the tension, his gravelly voice cutting across the table.

"So, Raphe, will it always hurt Dean that much to be healed? Being that the job often requires him to need healing!"

Dean raised an eyebrow in acceptance of the older man's statement and looked to the angel, with interest, for a response.

"Maybe. Really it depends I think on how adept you become at using and containing this gift within you. It needs to be managed and once you understand it more that will be easier. I think some of being able to receive healing is being ready to receive it willingly and not anticipating that it will hurt."

"Umm..."

Dean mused.

"Tough, when my first experiences are that it hurt like a sonofabitch."

Raphe laughed.

"Indeed, I'm sorry. I recognise we might have some work to do there!"

The angel's eyes told him they would do that work and Dean's smiled in nervous gratitude.

"Hang on though..."

Bobby stepped forward to refill their coffee mugs as he spoke.

"So, we get why it maybe hurts Dean here to be healed but as I see it didn't it hurt ya even worse to heal someone else, boy?"

Dean nodded as he held the warm mug carefully in his hands, avoiding the throbbing wound in his palm.

"So why was that, Raphe? 'Cause there's plenty of need for a healer in the Winchester team but it's gonna be a bummer if it always hurts him to do it..."

Raphael could see the sense in the old hunter's statement and he thought about the best words to use to help them all understand. He was surprised when Dean's soft voice beat him to the explanation.

" I...I absorbed your pain, Raphe."

The angel held his tongue, his face full of enquiry as Dean haltingly continued.

"It was like I could feel the bits of you that were wrong, broken, full of hurt and I picked them out and took them into me."

Dean's eyes were wide, his brow furrowed with the need to have someone understand him.

"I think that's why it hurt so much, I couldn't filter out any of the enormity of pain you had endured and just concentrate on one, single thing. It all just poured into me and overwhelmed me."

Raphael steepled his hands before his face and closed his eyes against the distress he felt. He had endured millennia of suffering and he had allowed all that to flood this man in one vicious deluge. It was amazing he had not killed him!

"I'm so sorry, Dean...I..."

He started to apologise but the hunter waved him off.

"No, you didn't know. It's not like that for you, is it?"

The angel shook his head, and his face lit up with the joy he knew was healing for him.

"No, Dean. For me healing is a pleasure. It tires me but I do not absorb the pain of the other. I..."

Raphael stopped abruptly as Sam raised his large hand before the angel's face.

"Wait!"

His tone was irritated and his manner agitated.

"This is all fine and I'm real glad you're bonding and all, but it doesn't answer the question of where Dean's power comes from? You say he's not a warrior-healer and his power doesn't come from any of you?"

The angry younger Winchester looked from Uriel to Raphe and back and both nodded, confirming Sam's astute assessment of the situation.

"And it doesn't come from the daemon?"

Dean's eyes flew to Raphe's, seeking reassurance.

"No, the power your brother has, Sam, is not a daemonic gift."

Dean slowly let out the breath he had unknowingly been holding.

"Then where is it from?"

Bobby looked questioningly at the senior angel.

"Why, isn't it obvious?"

Raphael looked around the faces in the room, smiling as Uriel nodded his support before finally coming to rest on Dean's wary face.

"Dean's power is not something he absorbed from another. It was born within him. His power is a gift from the Lord Almighty, from God himself."

Ends


	20. Chapter 20

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 20 Healer Teach Me

Dean's heart was racing in his chest, hammering against his ribs as sweat trickled down his back. He knew he was breathing heavily but he couldn't control it even though he tried. The revelation that Raphael had just laid on him was unnerving in the extreme and he was struggling to deal with it. What the hell was he doing with some god given gift? Sam he could have understood. After all he believed in this stuff but Dean Winchester...child of God? He just didn't see it. It was...quite frankly, beyond ridiculous, and it was freaking him out.

Raphe could see the dilemma and disbelief in his protégé's eyes and knew the whole gift deal was making Dean extremely nervous. He stretched his hand out and placed it on the hyperventilating hunter's muscular shoulder, calmly drawing the terrified green eyes to his own steady, grey gaze.

"Don't be afraid, my friend. This is a wonderful thing. Our Lord bestows his power but rarely, yet always with both wisdom and caution. Believe me, he knows what he is doing. You can harness this gift and become a soldier for our Father. A warrior for good in this world where so much evil exists."

The angel's voice was soft and rhythmically compelling, his tone deliberately soothing and Raphe watched as the wide dilation of the hunter's eyes lessened a little.

"Breathe..."

Raphe sucked in a long, slow breath smiling gently as Dean gradually responded to the steadying cadence. He knew the confused hunter needed time to come to terms with the revelation and was working on the theory that pragmatic action was necessary to distract him for long enough to allow him to work through his doubts.

"So, I figure we need to get you to practice using your skills, Dean."

He paused, checking he had the hunter's attention.

"Would you help me heal Uriel's hand? You might as well learn to control your gift, rather than go on fearing it."

The elder Winchester said nothing but Raphe smiled as he saw the fear replaced with a poorly disguised twinge of eagerness in his friend.

"That's all very well, Raphael, but will he be safe if he does?"

Sam's voice was low, a little threatening and his expression concerned and wary. He saw more than the others how this was scaring Dean and he was angry that the angels seemed to think it was okay to drift in and out of their lives, whenever they saw fit and drop their bombshells leaving them alone to deal with the aftermath. He knew Dean trusted this being, hell it galled him that he did, but Sam felt no great affinity or affection for any of these angels and he was gonna look out for Dean as well as he could.

"I'll protect him, Sam, guide him. You have to trust me. He'll be safe."

Raphe looked up into Sam's dark eyes, reassurance radiating from his angular face.

"I don't have to trust you at all, Raphael. Not where my brother's safety is concerned. You're not infallible. Hell, Belial possessed one of you and beat the crap outta my brother, so don't come on like you're such a safe bet."

Sam's voice was steadily rising with each sentence. His concern for Dean manifesting as anger at the infuriatingly calm, healer angel.

"Can you be sure, Angel? Can you guarantee my brother won't be hurt?"

"Sam...Please..!"

Dean's soft response was a warning to back off, a plea for Sam's acquiescence but it only served to make him more furious. He found it hard to understand why Dean was so willing to continue to trust in these mysterious beings that they hardly knew.

"Well, they haven't done a bang up job so far, Dean. Every time you've had anything to do with this..."

Sam snarled as he stood threateningly over the older man.

"This... 'Gift', you've ended up hurt."

Dean's tone was placatory, which further irritated the younger Winchester.

"I know, Sammy, but I didn't know what I was doing then but Raphe's here now and ..."

"And you're sure that'll make a difference, Dean?"

Sam could hear the plea for calm and patience in his brother's voice and he knew he was behaving outrageously. If Dean, who had suffered so much at their hands, could trust these beings than why had he the right to doubt them? He quietened. The tension in the room was still palpable, though, as the brother's continued to try and stare each other down.

"Well, maybe we just have to see, Sam."

Bobby's quiet but authoritative voice cut through the atmosphere and the old hunter found all eyes on him.

"Better Dean learn to control the...whatever it is that God gave him..."

Dean winced and the old hunter nodded imperceptibly in apology before continuing.

"Than it control him."

It was logic that Sam, although he was still mad, found difficult to argue down. He might not trust the angels but he had never once doubted Bobby's wisdom. He looked from the old man's steady gaze to his brother's familiar green eyes. There was trepidation there but a need to know. He bit down his own anger and fear.

"Alright, Raphael...but if anything..."

Raphe slowly raised his hand, quieting the agitated hunter.

"I know, Sam. I understand what you are saying. I empathise your need to protect your brother, I really do and I will do everything in my power to protect him too. You have my word on that."

The two men held their gaze for long seconds before Sam spoke softly.

"See you do, angel...just see you do or you'll answer to me."

wWw

The sky was sullen and dark and heat from the dominions beyond the gate made the rain sizzle as it fell to the dusty earth.

The stench of sulphur was over powering and the oppressive heat pouring from the gates sapped Jo's little remaining energy. Every bone in her body ached and all she wanted was to sleep but the demons within the confines of Hades were active and the frail barrier which tied them to their purgatory continually rattled and shook with their repeated attempts to break loose.

She glanced to her right and was relieved to see the ever reassuring presence of Raguel. The powerful angel seemed unbowed by the crushing intensity of the demonic activity. However, now she knew him a little better, Jo could see the tiredness marring his handsome face despite his best efforts to conceal it.

"Don't they ever let up?"

She shouted to make herself heard over the incessant noise of the pounding at the gates, her voice hoarse from the arid air as the massive angel looked to his diminutive companion.

She was dishevelled. Her clothes torn and stained from the tussles they had endured with the demons that Belial had encouraged to throw themselves at the gates. Soot streaked her face and darkened her pale blond hair. Compassion for the huntress saw him smile at her as he virtually shouted his response.

"It seems not! Take a rest, Jo. I can watch this side and Michael has the other."

She shook her head, wanting to be seen to pull her weight, even though she knew she had little power beside these warriors of God.

Raguel smiled at her tenacity. He admired this woman's courage and stamina more than he could have imagined he would but it worried him that their combined efforts were not quelling the activity their daemon nemesis was engendering.

"I'm alright, Raguel."

Jo grinned as she answered, smile lines crinkling the soot on her pale face.

"I know you are, but I need you to help me persuade Michael to take a breather and if you take a rest then so might he."

He nodded his head beyond her to where the Prince of Angel's stood his guard. She glanced toward the other angel, taking stock, before looking back to Raguel. Michael leaned with his shoulder against the gate, a thick piece of timber he had acquired from somewhere wedged between his jacket and the metal to protect him from the scorching heat. His eyes were temporarily closed and his head nodded as sweat dripped from his chin.

"He's exhausted, isn't he?"

The tall angel nodded, concern written on his face. He moved closer to the huntress so she could better hear his words above the din.

"We desperately need to bind Belial away once and for all, Jo. There's no way we can keep up this sort of vigil indefinitely."

She nodded in agreement.

"We need him banished safely back to Tartarus, so he can't commune with his brethren and stir them to insurgence like this. I've tried talking to Michael about calling Raphe and Uri back to us and performing the ritual that will finish this, but he worries so acutely about allowing Uri near Belial again that he won't listen to me. I really don't think we can hold out much longer, though."

Jo bit her lip, understanding the older being's reluctance to place his brother angel in danger despite the severity and urgency of the task. An image of Uriel popped into her head and she found herself smiling despite the gravure of their current situation. She remembered the small angel's charismatic smile. Saw it lighting up his angular face, animating his striking white blond hair and pale, ethereal eyes. She heard again his laughter as he joked with her, hell she remembered him flirting with her! They were not remotely unwelcome memories.

"And of course if they come here that leaves Dean and Sam alone and Michael would die rather than put our new brother back in the line of fire."

The angel's words jolted her from her reverie and Dean's face filled her consciousness. All the guilt of their acrimonious parting returned to haunt her and she drew in her breath against the sharp gnaw of regret that fired her belly. She knew she had hurt him and she was not proud of that. The image of his beautiful green eyes, so full of pain at his perceived betrayal, filled her memory and all Jo wanted to do was find a way to say she was sorry.

wWw

Dean and Uriel sat contemplating each other across Bobby's dining table. Uriel's lacerated hand rested on a clean towel between them, fresh beads of crimson oozing from the were-leopard's tear trickling onto the bloodied cloth.

Dean was clearly uncomfortable, his foot twitching rhythmically against the linoleum, avoiding all eye contact.

Uriel's smirk was not improving the situation.

Neither was the 'audience'. Raphael sat to Dean's right, Sam and Bobby stood side by side, leaning up against the kitchen cabinets.

"So..."

Raphael smiled as Dean's eyes flashed nervously to his face.

"To start with, try and relax. It helps the healing energy to flow..."

Raphael was interrupted as Uriel's snarky voice cut in.

"Yeah, and if you look less like you're heading to your own funeral it helps the patient chill too, Doctor Dean!"

"Uriel!"

Raphe barked his admonishment and Uriel raised his uninjured hand in apology. He did not wipe the teasing smile from his face though as he responded.

"Well I'm just saying, Raphe. He's wound tighter than a coiled spring..."

"And sarcasm is not going to help him unwind, Uriel."

The older angel admonished his brother.

"Hey! In the room here, guys."

Dean ground out through clenched teeth.

"Sorry, Dean."

Raphael smiled gently at his pupil before glancing menacingly at Uriel, his stare making it clear that Uri needed to hold his tongue. He held eye contact for a second or two until he was convinced the grinning angel understood and then turned his full attention back to Dean.

"So, Dean. When I heal I find it helpful to lay my hands gently on the injured area..."

The angel hovered his hand over his brother's and Uriel smiled as the delicate warmth he associated with Raphe's gift washed over his injured limb.

"Is it essential to be in contact?"

Bobby's curious voice chimed in.

"No, Robert. I can heal without contact but it takes more effort. The close apposition allows me to easily focus the energy."

Bobby nodded as Sam nudged him.

"Robert!"

The younger Winchester sniggered, unused to anyone addressing his friend as anything but Bobby.

"Idjit!"

Bobby muttered as Raphael continued, his question focussed back to his healer pupil.

"So, do you feel it would help to touch the injury in order for you to heal?"

Dean considered the question, conscious of the eyes of the room on him.

"Yeah...yeah, I think it might help..."

Raphe smiled, nodding encouragingly.

"Okay, so lay your hand on Uriel's..."

Dean reached over and covered the angel's injured hand as Uriel smiled suggestively at the hunter.

"Don't get any ideas, Hunter-boy..."

The blond angel snarked.

"Can it, Uri!"

The older angel's voice told his brother he meant business but was pleased as Dean's sharp retort reassured Raphe that his intervention was unnecessary.

"Yeah, cause it'd only ever be in your dreams, Angel-boy."

"What do you feel?"

Raphael's soft words commanded Dean's attention, returning it to the task before him and Sam watched his brother zone out the others in the room. The jealousy he had felt earlier at being excluded resurfaced but he bit it down.

"I feel..."

Dean struggled for the words as Raphe waited patiently.

"It feels...broken...his skin is...wrong. I can feel the break in the fibres of muscle..."

Dean paused. Fascination was evident in his words and he smiled shyly as Raphe nodded encouragingly.

"And you can feel how to mend it, make it right?"

Dean moved his palm over the back of Uriel's hand, being careful not to tear the wound but lightly grazing the skin with his own.

"Yes. I think I can see how to pull the tear together. It's as if I can see it whole, can imagine it whole again."

He looked up at Raphael, some uncertainty in his eyes.

"Is that right?"

"It'll do for a start."

Raphe smiled and patted him on the shoulder. It had been a long time since he had seen the joy of the gift develop in someone and he had forgotten the pleasure it gave him to bring on a new healer.

"So, can you see what you need to do to heal the wound?"

Dean didn't answer straight away. His eyes moved around the room, but Bobby could see his focus was not on what he could physically see. His gaze was distant like he was seeking something invisible to the others.

"I need...to...to..."

He hesitated, his eyes widening with uncertainty...shyness. Raphe waited patiently.

"Open up..."

Dean closed his eyes as if searching within. He looked almost drowsy.

"It's like I can harness energy, like it focuses through me to repair the damage."

He spoke softly as if what he said was in some way strange. When he opened his eyes again they were alive with his need for reassurance.

"I understand. I know that feeling and I will be here to guide you, Dean, but you need to go slowly. Okay? If I tell you to pull away, you must do so immediately."

The angel's words brooked no denial and Dean nodded. Raphael held the gaze for a moment, reassuring himself, and then glanced at his brother.

"You ready, Uriel?"

The blond haired angel saluted cockily with his good hand and stretched his damaged arm slightly more towards Dean in a gesture of faith as Raphael leaned in.

"Okay. Then let's begin..."

wWw

Belial sighed as he felt the ethereal surge around him. Finally the Winchester boy was calling on his power and this time he would tap into the gathering swell to blast his way out of this fetid hell the angel's had banished him to. He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to cross the ether, seeking the source of the growing power.

wWw

One final shudder and the gates ceased to move, the unending howling and screaming of the incarcerated demons ceased. The temperature dropped noticeably and as the dust settled around Jo, she found the cool rain droplets that had been their only relief in the scorching heat suddenly made her shiver.

She looked toward Raguel.

"What happened?"

He shrugged his shoulders and looked over her head to Michael as the older angel moved toward them.

The Prince of Angel's placed his hands cautiously on the gates. He moved carefully, as until this moment, the iron had been red hot. The gates were warm but cooling rapidly to the touch. Michael turned to his kin.

"Michael?"

Raguel had stepped close to his brother, his face betraying his concern.

"What's happening?"

The Prince glanced back at the soon to be iron-grey gates.

"They have stopped."

The statement was flat, Michael's voice betraying his exhaustion. Jo reached for his arm.

"I don't understand, Michael?"

The angel smiled ever so slightly at the tiny huntress.

"They have given up, Jo. For some reason, they have stopped their efforts to breach the gates."

She nodded, touching the cooling metal beside her as the rain chilled her skin.

"Why would they do that now? After all this time?"

She watched the two angel's exchange glances before Raguel turned back to answer her question.

"Something is distracting them."

Jo drew in a sharp breath, sensing their disquiet.

"What?"

Neither angel spoke, seconds passed.

"Oh my God! Dean!"

wWw

The power hummed softly through Dean's body and, with Raphe's guidance, he was able to focus it towards the torn flesh that had been the were-leopard's legacy to Uriel. The healing process was slow and measured but wonderful.

Dean found he could visualise individual muscle fibre and re-weave them, take delicate blood vessels and repair them. The power surged within him, making him feel alive and he wanted nothing more than to allow it to enfold and direct him.

And there was the danger. However, every time Dean allowed the entry portal within him to open more than was necessary, Raphe pulled him back warning that, whilst that path would afford him faster healing it could also potentially allow Belial to gain control.

The process still hurt but with Raphe able to watch and understand how Dean absorbed the patient's discomfort, the more experienced healer was able to suggest to Dean how he could 'wall the pain off' and so make it more tolerable.

Dealing with pain was a Winchester way of life and once he realised how to do it with the 'acquired' as well as he did with his own, then the process of healing Uriel went well.

wWw

Belial growled his anger as he sought again and again for an in-road to control the Winchester boy, to tap into his immense power. Each time before when he had tried to utilise his healing gift the daemon had been able to push his way past the fragile defences and gain power, but not so this time. This time he hit defences and brick walls wherever he looked.

Try as he might, Belial had been unable to find his way into Dean's head or tap into his enormous natural power for his own evil ends.

Some of that he knew was down to the angel, Raphael. The daemon spat the despised name from his mouth, hatred for the meddling angels howling into the perpetual night but most of it, he knew and feared, was due to Dean's increasing control and understanding of his gift. The hunter was building his defences, making himself invulnerable.

Belial had to find a way to quickly regain his dominion of the boy or he would become too adept to vanquish. Too powerful to annihilate and the daemon would be consigned to Hell for all eternity.

Belial would die before he would let that happen and if Dean Winchester need die too, then so be it.

wWw

"So, how does it feel?"

Bobby stared in fascination at Uriel's un-marred hand, healed before his very eyes.

"Feels good as new!"

Uriel smiled, flexing his hand happily as Bobby turned it back and forth, looking for but not finding any trace of the injury.

"How did it feel as Dean healed it, Uri?"

Raphe's question was casually worded but Uriel knew how seriously his brother took his craft. He answered respectfully, thoughtfully.

"It felt similar to when you heal, Raphe."

The older angel nodded, the curiosity in his eyes encouraging Uriel to more.

"I felt energy, as I do with you as the tear was closed..."

He rubbed his hand as he spoke.

"But it was different, too."

"Different how? He healed you, didn't he?"

Sam's question was strident compared to Raphael's and the healer angel saw his brother bristle slightly at the hunter's poorly disguised irritation. Raphe's steady grey gaze cautioned the oft-volatile Uriel to caution.

"Dean healed me very effectively, Sam."

Gratitude was apparent in Uriel's words and Raphe was relieved to see the answer lessen the younger hunter's tension.

"Different how?"

Dean's repeat of his brother's question was so unalike in tone to the original. It held none of Sam's belligerent defence of him but dripped with uncertainty and nervousness.

Uriel turned to the older Winchester. His face was intense but not unkind.

"When Raphe heals me I feel a warmth pervading the wound but also my entire being. It's a measured, steady, practised energy that comforts and soothes. The pain retreats slowly, if there is much pain I know it will be a gradual process. When he has healed me of a significant injury I have always known I must be patient and that the healing may require many sessions."

Uriel paused to check his words were making sense for Dean. The hunter's wide eyes told him they were. He glanced at Raphe too, checking that his description was comfortable with his brother. Raphael's soft 'thank you, my brother' reassured him and he continued.

"When you healed me, Dean Winchester, my pain was taken as soon as you began. I felt it... torn from me like it was an enemy to defeat, a battle to win. And I watched it impact on you. I saw it hammer into you, saw you suck in your breath as you fought to deal with it. Was it not so?"

Dean gripped his own hand as he answered. Though it was unmarked he could feel the sting of the referred injury.

"Yes. Yeah. Yeah, I guess it was...The moment I started to heal you it was like I felt the leopards claw tear _my_ hand open, but I was sort of expecting it this time and, with Raphe's help, I found a way to hold it separate to the healing."

"What did you do? To hold the pain at bay?"

Bobby's question was one they all wanted the answer for but before Dean could respond, Sam spoke for him.

"You built a wall..."

He held Dean's gaze, years of knowing his brother's every habit allowing him to speak so confidently for him.

"Am I right?"

Dean nodded, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"It's what you always do when you're hurting, build a wall and push the pain away behind it. Usually it's your own though...or mine..."

Dean smiled at his brother, the smile saying 'you're welcome'.

"I feel I should say thank you at this point..."

Uriel's words were sincere and Dean was a little taken aback.

"It was good to be rid of the pain."

The angel continued.

"Your energy is quite different to Raphael's, though. There was heat, like with Raphe but..."

He paused seeking the right words.

"It was like you were holding back a wall of flame that was at your command. I was aware that, had Raphe let you go for it, you could have healed me instantaneously. Your energy feels like a wild, untapped geyser. It's immensely powerful... and also terrifying in its possibilities. "

The angel's words hung in the air and it was seconds before anyone spoke, each occupant of the room floored by Uriel's words. It was Bobby who broke the en passé, happily growling,

"So, ya did okay, boy!"

The tension was immediately broken.

"Anyone hungry?"

Bobby reached for the coffee pot.

Laughter filled the air and Raphe was pleased to see Dean join in. He had observed him as Uri had described the experience and it was easy to see that the hunter's nervousness at his new found abilities largely remained. He was also worried as to how much energy the healing had cost Dean. The bar fight had taken its toll on the hunter, really far more so than it had on Uriel, and Dean was still suffering from the long term effects of the horrific injuries Belial had inflicted upon him during his kidnap.

Still, Raphe knew Dean well enough now to know that he would be embarrassed if he pointed any of that out. So, as the room became busy with thoughts of food Raphe leaned close to Dean.

"How do you feel?"

Solicitous grey eyes searched the hunter's face as he answered.

"'M fine, Raphe..."

It was a knee jerk response and Raphe's quirked brow showed Dean that the angel recognised it as such.

"No, really..."

Dean smiled as he went to rise from the table. Thoughts of coffee and food filing his consciousness.

"I really am fine, Raphe. It didn't hurt nearly as bad this time and..."

As he pushed his chair back and got to his feet the world spun on its axis. He threw out a hand, grabbing for the back of the chair but missed and he heard Sam calling his name as his legs buckled beneath him.

"Dean!"

Enough people got a hand to him to gentle his transition to the floor as the sudden weakness that had overcome him threatened to grey out the world. Dean ended up sitting on the floor, his back to Sam's chest, Bobby's strong grip on his shoulder preventing him pitching over sideways, as Raphe looked into his eyes.

"Fine, huh?"

The healer smiled, reassured after laying his hand over the hunter's heart that he was just exhausted and sore.

Dean grinned, a sleepy, lop-sided sort of a grin.

"Okay...bit tired...maybe..."

Raphe nodded into the dilated green eyes.

"Get him up. He needs some rest but he'll be fine."

Sam and Bobby carefully hauled Dean to his feet, cautiously keeping a hold on him as he shivered and swayed.

"You cold?"

Without waiting for a repeat of the ubiquitous 'm'fine', Sam touched Dean's forearm and found his skin freezing. He looked up at Bobby.

"Extra blankets?"

Sam nodded.

"They're in the closet...you take him to your room..."

Bobby relinquished his hold on the exhausted man, draping his arm around his brother's shoulder.

"I'll meet ya there."

Their proximity assailed Dean gradually. As Sam helped him towards the rear of the house he felt more than heard or saw their approach. He pushed back through the weariness, his growing awareness of them making his senses shriek with alarm. He nudged his elbow weakly into Sam's ribs, desperately trying to stand himself upright as the realisation hit him full on.

"S...Sam..!"

"Steady, bro..."

Sam tightened his grip as Dean struggled in his hold. He glanced at his brother and saw horror on his face.

"What is it?"

"Stop...him..!"

Dean had managed to get his feet under himself again and though he was swaying alarmingly, Sam could see his every hunter's reflex kicking in.

"Who..? Stop who?"

The younger man was scanning the house looking for the danger that was so animating his brother.

"Bobby...No!"

Dean shouted as he stumbled towards the rear of the house.

Bobby paused, his hand turning the knob to the back bedroom as the brothers burst into view.

"What the hell..?"

"Bobby, don't open the..."

The rest of his words were lost as the released nightmare cannoned through the opened door.

Ends


	21. Chapter 21

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 21 Revenge of the Weres

The 'Weres' had entered like wraiths through the rear window, silent on their ethereal animal paws and had merely waited, patiently biding their time until Bobby turned the door handle releasing them onto the unsuspecting hunter/angel gathering.

The surviving were-leopard of the dominant pair emerged first, exploding into the hallway snarling and ripping with his massive, razor sharp claws. His anger at losing his mate to the hunters had fuelled the flames of his supernatural fury and Bobby fell quickly before his merciless assault. Blood fountained from the vicious rents the creature tore and the hunter's head smashed into the wall as he went down, rendering him helpless before the creature's merciless attack.

The feline leader was supported by two smaller were-cats and the three remaining vulpine members of the troop. They leapt with a feral grace over their leader as he slashed and tore at the defenceless hunter as he lay prone on the ground and snarling their fury, they slunk towards the angels and hunters, howling their intent for blood.

"Bobby!"

Dean lurched forward, determined to protect their fallen friend, only to have Sam grab his arm and drag him back, protecting him from his automatic instinct to rescue. Dean pulled furiously at his brother's hand, his wild, green eyes flashing in anger.

"Get offa me, Sam! I gotta get to Bobby."

Sam held fast, suffering Dean's ire.

"Weapons for god's sake, Dean! If we're gonna have a chance of getting to him, of taking these bastards down, we need to be armed!"

The adrenaline rush of fight or flight was kicking in for the outraged hunter but even through the red rage Dean heard the logic in his brother's words. He nodded reluctantly and allowed Sam to back him away, his eyes never leaving the were-creatures ranged before him. The lead leopard raised its obscenely bloodied muzzle towards the retreating hunters and, baring its teeth almost as if it were laughing, turned to follow its companions in their stalk.

wWw

They stumbled over each other back into the living room, grabbing at whatever weaponry they could amongst the random decoration of Bobby's home, herding the angels before them as the weres moved to circle them.

Dean held a razor sharp, silver knife in each hand, courtesy of an ancient Japanese Samurai wall plaque and he noted Sam was holding the heavy, silver tipped spear that had always been stationed in the umbrella stand. Now, if they could just take down a few of the creatures, whilst protecting the angels and get to Bobby!

"Sam?"

Dean's eyes didn't leave the two wolves directly in front of him as he spoke.

"Uh huh?"

Nor did Sam's leave the were-leopard as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Dean, the angels pressed into the corner behind them.

"You packing?"

"Nope. Gun's in the car. You?"

"Sure am."

Sam risked a glance as he jabbed the spear at the third wolf, and Dean yanked his T-shirt to show the colt jammed in the waist band of his jeans.

"Terrific!"

However, Sam's voice betrayed his continued nervousness.

"I sense a but though, Dean?"

"Umm, yeah..."

The hunter didn't get the chance to finish as Uriel's voice completed the sentence.

"Used up all the silver rounds on the were-bitch in the bar."

Sam's groan was tangible as he fended off a feint from the smallest of the cats.

Sensing the hunters disquiet, the two wolves marking Dean took their opportunity to pounce and Raphael watched in horrified fascination as the older Winchester's prowess with a knife saw him sprayed with warm, sticky blood as Dean expertly sliced, in mid-air, through the jugular of the smaller wolf with a well placed slash of his right hand. The creature went down, its life gurgling away to a sticky puddle on Bobby's living room carpet.

Dean's second, left handed strike was less effective, his barely healed shoulder preventing him from delivering the full power of his thrust, but it was adequate to stick the other vulpine attacker in the hip and it squealed in pain as it scuttled away into the shadows of the furniture.

"One down, Sam."

Dean was a little breathless as he edged back towards the group and was relieved to hear his brother's steady voice answer him.

"Two, Dean."

The elder man flicked a look toward his brother to see him place his boot on the writhing carcass of the smaller were-cat and pull free the spear point that skewered the creature almost full through.

"Gimme the knife..."

Dean passed the left-handed blade to his brother and Sam bent and efficiently slit the throat of the injured leopard.

Their remaining attackers retreated at the sight of their fallen comrades, hugging the shadowed walls and growling softly as they awaited their opportunity for revenge.

"We gotta get to Bobby, Sam. I think he's hurt bad."

Anxiety for the old man oozed from the hunter though his gaze never left the prowling weres.

"I know. Dammit! We need the guns."

Sam's anxiety was evident in the tension in his voice and Dean glanced at the door to the front yard and the Impala's well stocked trunk. The lead leopard stood sentinel by the triple locked door.

"We need to get to the Impala but there's no way we're getting through there without thinning the opposition out a bit more, Sammy."

Dean observed angrily and Sam nodded his silent agreement.

"Does Bobby still stash silver shot cartridges for the Remington in the desk drawer?"

Sam's dark eyes tracked to the sawn off shot gun mounted over the fire place as he spoke and Dean's gaze followed his from the faithful old weapon to Bobby's huge old oak desk, just visible through the study's open doorway.

"As far as I know, yeah."

As he spoke the leopard's paw appeared round the side of the sofa and swiped at Dean's calf. The slashing claws tore three parallel crimson grooves into his tightly bunched muscle and staggering he growled in pain as he thrust with the knife. The small cat sidestepped to dodge his mistimed swing, inadvertently harpooning itself on the concealed blade that Uriel had withdrawn from the shaft of his walking cane. The second leopard died instantly, expertly pierced through the eye by the smiling angel.

Dean could feel the blood running down his leg and into the top of his boot as he regained his position with the others.

"Thanks, Uriel."

He nodded toward the blond angel, who saluted him jauntily with the bloodied cane.

"Pleasure. Line me up one of the dogs up and I'll skewer them for ya too!"

"Steady, Uri..."

Raphe's hand rested gently on the angel's shoulder.

"Remember your knee..."

Uriel huffed.

"I'm fine, Raphe. Stop fussing..."

The wolves attack was sudden and furious. They launched themselves over the furniture and into the midst of the huddled group, teeth and claws flailing as their targets scattered for cover.

Dean's torn calf muscles screamed their protest at the sudden movement, collapsing beneath him and his knife skittered from his hand as he hit the floor. The breath whooshed out of him as his bruised and battered ribs grazed the cupboard side and the wolf was on him instantly. Instinctively, he threw his hands up, pushing his jacketed wrist into the wolf's slavering jaws as it snarled for his face.

Raphael recovered quickly from his sprawl and rolled on his hip in time to see the wolf pounce on Dean. He leapt to his feet, hearing the hunter calling out in agony as its trap-like jaws clamped around his wrist and in an instant the angel was astride the were-creatures back, his normally gentle hands squeezing mercilessly at its thick pelted throat.

Sam kicked out hard at the second wolf, and its howl added to the other frantic calls in the room as the creature careened into Uriel knocking him from the feet he had just regained.

"Stay down!"

Sam called breathlessly as he struck at the returning wolf with the blade Dean had lent him.

"Like f...fuck I w...will!!"

Uriel's breathlessly offended response almost made the struggling hunter laugh but the creature's fetid breath in his face, and Dean's pained cry, pulled him back.

"Sam..?"

He chanced a glance towards his brother and was alarmed to see Dean virtually hidden as he and Raphael wrestled the larger wolf. Sam kicked out again at his own vulpine attacker, determined to go to their aid.

"I'm coming..."

"No!"

Dean's harsh shout halted him.

"The le...leopard, Sam..."

Dean was breathless with exertion and pain. Sam looked to the door where he had last seen the huge cat. It was gone.

"Where the hell's it gone?"

He jabbed at the wolf with the blade as he spoke, trying to back the creature towards Uriel and the waiting, lethally extended blade.

"Dunno...disappeared!"

Dean gasped, struggling to stifle his groans as above him Raphe panted, wrenching the jaw/arm combo this way and that as he tried to snap the wolf's head on its well muscled neck.

"Get to... Impala... Sam. Get...silver...rounds..."

Sam nodded his understanding as he looked back to Uriel.

"I need to get to the car, Uri. The leopard must be somewhere in the house and I need to take it down."

The small angel nodded and raising his arm gracefully to the side of his head flung the two- foot, lethally sharp blade directly towards Sam.

The cane-blade stabbed into the ground just by Sam's right foot, pinning the wolf, howling, by the back leg to the ground.

"Finish it!"

Uriel shouted and Sam thrust the small silver knife blade deep into the creature's throat.

Sam was moving for the door, sprinting towards the Impala on his long, long legs even as the creature bled out onto the floor.

"Uriel, help them take out that one. Get Raphe to Bobby..."

"I'm on it, Sam."

The angel nodded as he limped determinedly towards the fatally struggling trio, retrieving the vicious blade as he moved.

wWw

Sam reached the car in five determined strides and yanked open the trunk, all the while keeping an eye out for the remaining large were-leopard. His hand went straight to the boxes of silver tipped shells, silently thanking Dean for his insistence on tidiness and order and forcing himself to breathe evenly as his hands shook with the adrenaline rush still buzzing through him.

Automatically he chambered the cartridges, pocketing the rest and turned for the door the urgency to get back and protect Dean and the others humming in his blood, only to be halted in his tracks by the hard eyes of the were-leopard, glistening with malevolence. The beast regarded him steadily from its position only feet in front of him. In its shining eyes Sam could see traces of its long past humanity but they were held prisoner to its animalistic fury at the further loss of its pack members.

The beast leapt even as Sam raised the gun and dived to the side for cover. His honed reflexes were swift and the silver slug tore through the sleekly muscled chest of the cat, replacing black fur with crimson destruction. It crumpled to the ground, howling its pain and despair.

The gun jolted from Sam's hands as he landed beside the crippled cat and for a moment, the winded pair could do nothing but stare at each other, before the cat lurched to its feet and slunk away, blood trailing behind it as it moved.

wWw

Sam burst through the door, loaded shotgun in each hand, conscious that he didn't really know how many of the weres remained standing or what condition they were in. Nor, for that matter, did he know how his companions had fared in the bloody battle.

"Dean?"

His voice was strident, his anxiety making his heart hammer.

"Here...Sam..."

He was relieved to hear his brother's relatively steady voice call to him from the back of the house but he could hear the tension within the soft response and he hurried toward the sound. He passed the final wolf corpse, noting the disturbingly unnatural angle of its broken neck as he hurried toward the area Bobby had first fallen.

Dean and Raphe were on their knees, the angelic healer's hands were hovering over the fallen hunter's still form. Blood pooled under Bobby's body staining the floor where they knelt. Uriel stood to the side, his face anxious.

"Is he alright?"

Sam dropped to his knees, beside his brother, the shotguns laid to his side as Raphe glanced towards him.

"I'm just checking him out, Sam."

The serious look on the angel's face told Sam that it was not good.

"Is anyone else hurt?"

Sam looked at his brother as he spoke but Dean's focus was on their fallen friend and Uriel was left to answer the question.

"We're okay, Sam. Dean's leg got torn up a bit and his wrist is bruised as hell but otherwise no real injuries...Did you get the leopard?"

Sam eyes flickered to his brother as he replied, scoping him out as he had been trained to do from being a child.

"I wounded it. Bad chest wound. I don't think it'll survive."

He noted the blood soaking the leg of Dean's jeans and the way he twisted awkwardly to the side to avoid sitting as heavily on his left leg.

The blond angel nodded, relief softening his angular features.

"That's all of them then."

Sam nodded.

"How bad is he, Raphe?"

Dean's voice was soft, measured and very calm and Sam winced because he knew from experience that combination meant his brother recognised the particular severity of the situation they found themselves in. To Sam it meant that the situation was real bad and Dean was using all his internal reserves to keep from lashing out in fear and pain.

Raphe looked up hurriedly from his patient, concern in his pale, grey eyes.

"His injuries are severe. The leopard tore him up good and he's lost a lot of blood but they can be healed with patience. This head injury though..."

Sam glanced again at Bobby and registered the lump the size of an egg over his temple.

"I'm gonna need some help with this, Dean."

Raphael had turned to the elder Winchester as he spoke and Sam watched Dean start as if shocked from his reverie. His pale face and wide eyes betraying his turmoil.

"Raphe...I don't know if I can...it's not just a few cuts and scratches..."

The divine healer could see the genuine fear on the hunter's face and he understood all Dean's reservations. He remembered the first few times he used his gift. Remembered the terror of the power within him and also the wonder of it. But Raphael had always been cognisant of his destiny, had always known the life that was to be his.

"I'll be with you, Dean. I'll guide you."

Raphael watched the hunter's nervousness recede a little.

"And I'll watch out for Belial..."

Mention of the daemon's name saw terror flood the hunter's wide green eyes as Raphael had expected. He reached out and touched Dean's forearm.

"Raphe...I can't..."

Dean voice was cracked with fear, memories of his previous encounters with the daemon assaulting him.

"You can. I know you're afraid but I'll keep you safe. Trust me, Dean."

The angel's voice was calm but insistent. His grey eyes holding the hunter's panicked stare.

"You can and you will, Dean. I can't do this alone. The head injury is bad. There is a large clot forming and if we don't relieve the pressure quickly the damage will be irreparable. I need the power of your healing to augment mine. There's no other way."

He could feel the tremors of doubt rippling through his protégé. He tightened his grip, feeling the hunter start in pain as he put pressure on the bruises from the Were's teeth.

"If you don't help me, Dean, he may die."

Raphe watched as Deans eyes flickered to his fallen comrade. A wealth of emotion played across his expressive face: Fear, doubt but most of all, love for the gruff, taciturn man who lay unconscious before them.

"Okay..."

Dean drew in a shaky breath and Raphe smiled.

"Shall we get him to the couch?"

Sam's words mirrored his concern for the older hunter.

"It'd be easier for ya..."

He glanced at Raphe and Dean.

"...to heal him I mean..."

Approval for his brother's part in the task to come was overt in Sam's words and Raphael smiled to see the positive effect Sam's endorsement had on the elder Winchester. His posture straightened as he responded.

"Yeah, you're right, Sam. Let's get him on the couch..."

Dean went to take a hold of the unconscious man only to have Sam put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Let me, Dean. You need to save your strength to heal him."

Sam's eyes said 'let me do this for him, this is all I can do!' and Dean smiled, withdrawing his hand and nodding, as Sam reached forward preparing to lift Bobby into his arms.

A low, hatred filled growl of fury was the herald of the fatally wounded were-leopard's final attack. The heavily bleeding creature's claw's skittered on the painted wooden floor as it charged, adrenaline animating its dying body, at full tilt, through the open door. Raphael threw himself over the prostrate body of their patient as angels and hunters alike scattered out of its way as it careered toward them, desperately grabbing for discarded weapons as they dove and rolled.

Dean and Uriel reached the shotguns first and Sam watched, as if in slow motion, as angel and hunter lined up their sights on the pouncing cat. From his position on his back on the floor, Dean's honed reflexes squeezed the trigger and the sleek black beast howled its final fury as the silver shot penetrated its body. The cat crumpled in mid air, falling to the ground, lifeless, inches from where Raphe lay protecting Bobby's body with his own.

Uriel was slower to discharge his weapon and being unused to the kick of the sawn-off, the smoking muzzle of the gun pulled hard to the left as it fired.

Dean was moving even as he screamed,

"NO, Sam! Watch out!"

But he was too far away to quite reach his brother and all he could do was barrel him clumsily out of the way of the angelic shot. Had Dean been a second quicker, the blast would have missed entirely but as the brothers landed in a tangle of arms and legs Sam felt the silver shot catch, piercing his chest and shoulder with sharp needles of fire. He gasped in pain as blood bloomed on his grubby T-shirt from a myriad pellet wounds.

"Sam!"

Distantly, he felt his brother's strong arms around him as he fought to find the breath to speak around the perforations in his lung.

"Sammy. No!"

He blinked slowly, His brother's anguished face fading as his strength failed.

"No, no, no! Sam. Don't do this. Stay with me..."

Darkness pervaded the edges of his vision as Dean's heavy hand pressed to his chest and Sam's last vision was of his own rich, red blood coating Dean's hand as his pierced heart ceased to beat.

Chapter ends


	22. Chapter 22

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 22 "Raphe, guide me!"

Cold, stark terror gripped Dean as he hugged his brother's stilled body to him. He could feel the spark that was uniquely Sam dimming. Feel part of himself dying as the life force drained from his brother. He looked to the healer angel, his need to save Sam screaming from his desperate eyes.

"Oh god. No! Raphe, help me!"

Raphael nodded, understanding that nothing would prevent Dean in his attempt to heal both his old friend and now his beloved brother, whatever peril that might place him in.

"It will be dangerous. Belial is out there waiting for just this opportunity."

Dean shook his head, everything in him screaming to save Sam.

"I don't care. Don't care what it costs. I have to save them. I don't know how to do this on my own. Help me, Raphe, please. Will you guide me?"

Absolute need echoed in those few words and the angel remembered back to the binding and how Dean had given so much of himself to save their brother Michael. He could do no less in return.

"Of course I will, Dean."

The terror lessened slightly on the hunter's pallid features as he looked back to his brother's equally pale face.

"Aah, Sammy. Hang in there." He whispered brushing fine tendrils of hair from his brother's blood smeared brow, before looking back to his healer mentor.

"Do we have the power for this between us, Raphe? Can we heal this much damage?"

Sam's warm blood was trickling down to further soak Dean's already filthy clothes. Raphael's gaze passed quickly over the injured pair. It was indeed a huge task, far more than he had ever tackled before, and yet he knew they had no choice.

"We can only try. We need to move Bobby so they are next to each other and we can easier combine our resources."

Dean nodded his understanding, his brother's complete lack of any motion terrifying to him.

Raphael glanced to Uriel who had not moved from his position as he spoke. The shotgun hung in his hands. His face was slack with the enormity of what he had done. Raphael could feel the horror of his actions reverberating within him.

"Uriel?"

He spoke softly, trying to gently break the shocked angel's reverie. Uriel did not move. His eye's never left Sam, the young hunter's total immobility in sharp contrast to the angel's rapidly pumping chest.

"Uri..?"

Nothing. No response. Shock had silenced the shaken being. Raphael hardened his tone.

"Uriel!"

The blond angel started and the gun clattered to the painted floor. His horrified eyes found Raphael's. He wouldn't, couldn't make contact with Dean.

"I...I'm...sorry..."

The words were gasped breathlessly and Raphe's heart grieved for the pain they held. He spoke gently.

"I need your help here, brother. Help me get Bobby over to Sam so we can begin."

Uriel did not move. It was as if he were rooted to the spot. His wide white gaze could only see the blossoming blood beneath Dean's clutching hand and the increasing pallor of the dying hunter in his grieving brother's arms.

"Oh my God, what have I done..."

Horror whispered on the angel's words and Raphe's heart wept for him. He opened his mouth to try and find words to comfort his brother but Dean's soft voice beat him to the reply.

"It was an accident, Uriel. Help us. Do as Raphe says. There's no time for this now. Please, you have to help me save him!"

There was a fierce urgency but no blame in the hunter's words and the power of the emotion behind them stirred Uriel to life. He hurried to Raphael's side and they carefully moved Bobby to lay him gently beside Sam.

Dean stretched out one hand and laid it gently against Bobby's temple. He looked up into Raphe's eyes.

"Ready?"

The angel nodded, bracing himself and the hurricane force of Dean Winchester's unleashed power tore into the universe, seeking a miracle.

wWw

Behind the gates of Hades, Belial sighed deeply and delighted in the tumultuous, raw, energy that coursed from the Winchester boy. He watched in fascination as the fledgling healer simultaneously sought the catastrophic damage that threatened the lives of the two men dearest to him and reworked the destruction to make the injured whole again. It was truly wonderful to behold and Belial marvelled at how little guidance the hunter needed from his mentor angel to achieve such beatific restoration.

He also delighted in the power he was able to draw for his own ends in the process. Dean was like a beacon of energy even though he could sense the hunter trying desperately to contain the power within him, to wall it off and prevent the daemon accessing it. Despite this, Belial was finally able to draw enough power to push so hard at the gates that the defending angels could not hold him and his brethren back.

He would be free of this hated incarceration at last.

wWw

Raphael had never known a force like this. He watched in awe as Dean weaved ragged tears together restoring them to whole tissue, repaired nerve and blood vessel and breathed life into the near dead. The angel did what he could to help direct the naive power and to add his own experience but his main focus was on trying to contain the hunter's energy and prevent it being telegraphed beyond their two patients.

He had to try to keep the power that poured so copiously out of the labouring hunter/healer from reaching Belial in his tenuous prison.

If he could not, then the lives of his own kin and those of all mankind would be at risk.

wWw

Massive power pulsed through Dean. It innervated him, heightening his senses. With his eyes closed he could see more clearly than he ever had before. Colours were a vivid tapestry of crimson hues as he concentrated of the re-growth and regeneration of the damaged tissue in his fallen family. The energy his healing tapped thrummed within him.

And with it came pain.

His head throbbed as he the absorbed pain from Bobby's cracked skull and his body tingled with the adopted claw marks of the were-leopard. However, this time, Dean had been able to anticipate the hurt, to wall it away, separating it in his head from the healing.

Still it twisted his face with the intensity of his actions and he squeezed his eyes tight shut, biting back the urge to vocalise his pain.

His only focus on saving his kin.

wWw

Uriel was afraid. He could see his brother angel's encroaching exhaustion and knew that this healing was way beyond anything that Raphe had ever achieved before. He moved closer and supported the slumping older being with his own body. He could see the healer's hands trembling with fatigue and when he looked into Raphael's grey eyes he saw how near to collapse he was.

"Raphe! Withdraw, please..."

Uriel pleaded, knowing even as he said it that his brother would never desert his protégé. The older angel shook his head weakly.

"He is nearly done..."

"But it's killing you!"

Raphael wearily turned his head towards his brother.

"No, Uri...it's wonderful. He is amazing...His healing is way beyond anything I will ever achieve...this gift is truly God given."

Uriel smiled at the wonder in Raphe's weak voice, hearing the emotion in his brother's words.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Help me contain the power he exudes. I think I have managed to keep it constrained but...I can't be sure and if Belial taps into it..."

Uriel suppressed the shudder that rippled through him at the daemon's name and placed his hand atop of Raphael's, gasping as the maelstrom of Dean Winchester's power engulfed him.

wWw

Jo coughed as she rolled painfully to her knees in the hot, red dust that coated the floor before the shuddering gates. She turned her aching head and looked through watering eyes at the archangels as they wove their divine web of containment.

The web was a beautiful contrast to the fetid monstrousness that was Hades; a thread-work of shimmering blue filigree that emanated angelic power and yet still the demons breached the gates.

The angels trapped each creature as it emerged, their physical power holding the beasts of hell until their divine energy could return them to their foul internment.

Grime and soot stained both Raguel and Michael and crimson highlighted their skin from the numerous physical blights of their labour.

Behind the wall, Belial mustered his energy for the final push. He closed his eyes, drinking in the throbbing pain that radiated distantly from the hunter/healer.

A little more and he would be able to breach the wall himself rather than throwing his meaningless minions at it and his hated nemeses, the angels.

He sighed lustfully and gathered his strength. Soon he would be free.

wWw

Dean could not hold back the tight groan that escaped his pinched lips as he journeyed through the damage that Uriel's shot had made to Sam's heart. His brother's pain assaulted him, rocking him, terrifying him, freezing the tight breath within his labouring lungs, even as he felt Sam's ease. He coughed and shook his head, seeing the sunspots of gold and red that danced at the periphery of his tunnelling vision.

The pain in his chest was unendurable beyond anything he had ever experienced before and his defensive walls shook, as did his physical body, against the onslaught of agony. Could he finish this? He dug deeper, gritting his teeth as his pain intensified.

In the far distance he heard sighs of immeasurable pleasure and knew the daemon was leaching his power and using it for ill. Yet he dare not stop, as beneath his trembling fingers Sam's heart was slowly knitting back together and he felt the first tenuous flutterings as the lifeblood resumed its flow.

wWw

The gates flung open suddenly, explosively and the red fires of hell scorched Jo's face as she turned away in terror from the depraved sights laid open before her.

The angel's chanting increased as they held hands across the breach, desperately reciting their binding incantations.

Belial observed the chaotic scene, joyous release coursing through his ethereal body. Dean's massive power surge had given him energy beyond measure and he used that to cloak his spiritual being. Thus he moved finally beyond the gates that bound him, safe in the knowledge that while the angel's could no doubt feel his presence, they could not concentrate enough to know his exact location and form. He slipped amongst them, using the clouding cover of the other released demons to shield him from divine eyes and smiled as he decided which host would best suit his ends.

wWw

Sam's eyes snapped open as his brother wove together the last broken sinews of his shuddering heart and surged it to life with a stabilising jolt of energy. The younger man grasped at his brother's arm, his blurred eyes finding amazed delight in the fact that he was alive. He raised a shaky hand to his chest and marvelled that the fiery pellet tracks were gone from his touch.

"S...Sam?"

Dean's voice was a ghost of a whisper, but his face showed relief and joy at his achievement. To his side, Bobby too stirred and Uriel helped the older man to a sitting position, propping him with an arm about his shoulder.

"Are y...you a...right?"

Dean's words were slurred, desperate tiredness overcoming his ability to annunciate.

Sam nodded, reaching to take hold of his brother by his biceps as he sat more upright.

"I'm fine, Dean. Healed..."

The younger Winchester smiled as he spoke, his thankful glance moving fleetingly to Raphael as he spoke. The angel smiled weakly in return but gestured him back to his sibling.

"Don't look to me, Sam. This was strictly down to your brother. What Dean has achieved...well, I'm not sure I could have even attempted and if I could it would have taken me hours. Hours neither of you had."

Sam's face paled a little and he turned swiftly back, seeking for the truth of the angel's words in the green eyes he knew could never lie to him. The answer was there to see in the wide eyed emerald dilation.

"Did it hurt you?"

Sam's intense hazel gaze held his brother's wavering eyes and Dean hadn't the energy to lie. He nodded and the motion made the room swim alarmingly.

"Dean?"

It was the last thing the hunter heard as unconsciousness claimed him and he pitched forward into his brother's waiting arms.

wWw

The ingress of the daemon was monstrous and the host screamed in distress as Belial's foul presence invaded their helpless body. Their cries were lost in the melee and Belial smiled in his unwilling host as he waited silently for the angel's to complete the ritual that was slowly closing the breach he had engineered in the gates to Hades.

He would soon be about his business and his business was the destruction of Dean Winchester.

Chapter ends.


	23. Chapter 23

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 23 "Lets go bag us a daemon!"

Jo's face was a picture of contained rage and Raguel looked from her to Michael, knowing that the diminutive huntress was not going to back away from the argument this time. She had put her case to them almost as soon as the dust had settled, to travel to Bobby's and reunite her with Sam and Dean, and them with their brother angels, but Michael had steadfastly refused and continued to do so.

It had been nearly 24 hours since the Gates had suddenly silenced. It appeared that they had managed to quash the demon rebellion and contain the associated evil within the confines of Hades but still Michael remained unconvinced and therefore unwilling to acquiesce to Jo's demands. Raguel could understand his dilemma. The Prince of Angels had to be totally sure it was safe, that Belial was locked down for good, but Raguel could see the need in Jo to be back with her own kind. And if he were honest he wanted more than anything to see Raphe and Uri and know they were safe and well. Once they were all together the four angels could also finish, once and for all, Belial's banishment so there was purpose for all of them in Jo's request.

He understood and empathised with her anxiety and knew that Michael could too. If truth be known, he was beginning to be a little bit irritated by Michael's seeming determination to have them wait here when they needed to be away. Whatever had happened, it appeared to have silenced Belial and Raguel's thinking mirrored Jo's, they should use the hiatus in demon activity to regroup and finish the task once and for all.

They had made a call to Raphael almost as soon as the heat of the battle at the Gates had cooled, to fill their brothers in and check all was well with them, but the news they had heard had not been at completely welcome.

Raguel had been surprised to hear an unfamiliar voice answer Raphael's phone and as he replayed the conversation for the umpteenth time now in his head, it got no more reassuring.

"_Hello..."_

"_Who is this?"_

_Raguel's voice was inflected with surprise and Michael and Jo both looked toward him._

"_Singer... name's Singer..."_

_Raguel had nodded the old hunter's name familiar to him._

"_Bobby Singer. I am Raguel...I would speak with either of my brothers."_

_There was pause at the end of the line and Michael's face creased in tension. He raised an eyebrow and Raguel flipped the phone to speaker._

"_Bobby? Please, are you there? I would speak with Raphael or Uriel."_

_Again there was pause and the trio listened to the muffled sound of agitated exchange at the end of the line._

"_Mr Singer..?" _

_Michael's deep voice resonated with question._

"_Hold on. I'm trying, dammit! Raphael can't, he's out cold...Uriel, take the phone. No, Sam, you stay with Dean...I'll watch Raphe. Uri, just take the damn phone, boy ..."_

_The cell fell quiet again._

"_What the hell's going on, Michael?"_

_Jo's face was crumpled with a mixture of distress and panic and Raguel slipped his arm around her shoulders as she looked to the angels for answers they didn't have._

_Seconds slipped by and finally Uriel's hesitant voice whispered._

"_Michael..?"_

_The Prince of Angel's smiled to hear his brother and his voice was filled with genuine warmth as he answered._

"_My brother...Are you alright? What's happening there?"_

"_I...I'm so sorry, Michael...it was an accident...I didn't mean..."_

_The angel's clearly distressed voice petered out and Michael snatched up the phone from Raguel's hand._

"_What happened, Uriel? What accident? Are you hurt?"_

_Urgency tumbled his words._

"_No...not me...I'm alright but there was so much damage...Raphe said he couldn't have healed them by himself but with Dean...but now they are both unconscious...I'm sorry, Michael, it's all my fault...I fucked it up like I always fuck it up, dammit!"_

_The line went quiet, apart from the indistinct buzz of background activity it infuriatingly relayed._

"_Uri..?...Uriel...Answer me!" _

_Distress made the older angel's voice strident and they were all relieved when the hunter's weary voice kicked in._

"_It's Bobby, Michael..."_

"_What's going on there, Mr Singer?"_

_Michael's question was measured, his terror masked in millennia of discipline and reserve, but Bobby heard it plainly in his voice. He talked quickly; keen to alleviate the angel's anxiety, even as he concentrated on watching Raphe and Dean._

"_The Weres found us, there was a fight and I got torn up bad, busted ma head..."_

"_Bobby!"_

_Jo gasped and Raguel tightened his arm about her as they clustered around the cell._

"_I'm alright, Jo. I'm fine...They... healed me."_

_Even through the clear tension in her old friend's voice the huntress could hear the wonder too and she couldn't help but smile at the reverence in Bobby's use of the word, healed. _

"_But in all the confusion there was an accident and Sam got shot..."_

"_Oh God...is he...he's not..?"_

_Tears coursed from Jo's eyes to make wet tracks in the soot staining her cheeks._

"_He's alright, Jo, Raphe and Dean healed Sam, too..."_

_Raguel interrupted._

"_Uriel shot him?"_

"_Yes. Hell it was nobody's fault. Sam just got in the line of fire, but he's okay now. Its Raphe and Dean who are unconscious. I don't know if they are just exhausted or if it's something more... I don't know what the hell happened...but they are both out of it, dead to the world..."_

"_Oh my God...Dean?"_

_Jo turned and buried her face into Raguel's protective embrace as Michael continued the interrogation._

"_Uriel..?"_

_He waited and seconds passed._

"_Brother, please! Speak to me."_

_Guilt flooded the blond angel's reply._

"_Michael, I am so sorry. It was the shotgun. The recoil...I couldn't hold it. I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt... and now Raphe and Dean..."_

"_Stop, Uri!"_

_Michael's voice was firm but kind._

"_This situation is not of your making and I need you to be strong."_

_Bobby watched as the blond angel listened and gathered his wits, visibly taking strength from his brother's steadying words._

"_Do you sense the presence of the daemon there, Uri? Do you think Raphe or Dean are..."_

"_No!"_

_Uriel's answer was a breathlessly emphatic one._

"_No..."_

_More measured this time._

"_I don't have any sense of it here. I don't believe it has taken either of them."_

_Raguel winced, knowing his brother's absolute terror was that Belial would take one of them again and doubt as to whether Uriel could rationally judge such an issue flashed across his compassionate face. He glanced over at Michael and saw the same lingering doubt mirrored in the Prince of Angel's violet eyes._

"_All right, Uriel. I hear you."_

_Michael's voice soothed as Uri returned his own question._

"_What..? He's not there? Not safe... beyond the Gates?"_

_The youngest of the angel's voice was soft with fear and Michael longed to relieve Uri's terror._

"_I can sense a vague trace of Belial's power, Uri, but I cannot be sure if it is that we have sent him deeper, returned him to our inner sanctum and the defences you have built around Tartarus mask his foul odour, or if he lingers...free..."_

"_Oh, God...not again, Michael..."_

_Uriel's pain was evident for all to hear and the older angel moved swiftly to focus the encroaching panic he could sense so clearly._

"_Uriel, listen to me. I must be sure it is safe here and then we will come to you. Can you tend to Raphe and Dean until then?"_

_Given purpose, Uriel's reply was a little more together._

"_I can...but hurry, Michael. Please!"_

"_I will, my brother. Until then, be strong. I need you to be strong."_

_wWw_

Belial looked out through the eyes of his reluctant host at those gathered before the Gates to Hades and savoured the disquiet he caused. He saw the doubt and fear his sudden disappearance had created and relished the agonies they endured attempting to ascertain whether he was now banished to their foul perdition.

Soon, if he played this right, he would have Dean Winchester in his grasp and he longed for that moment beyond endurance. He smiled, and laughed as his host fought against the involuntary curve of their lip into his demonic sneer.

wWw

"Any change?"

Bobby handed the steaming mug of coffee to Sam as the young hunter straightened in the chair they had placed between the two beds.

"Umm...No. Not really..."

Sam reached miserably for the coffee, wearily raking the long fingers of his other hand through his dishevelled hair, hoping the fiercely strong brew would revive him a little. He was exhausted with the strain of the last 24 hours and the wonderful energy his miraculous healing had given him had been eroded by a wearying sense of worry for his brother.

It was what the old hunter had expected but still the soft words cut through him. He nodded, his eyes moved from the younger Winchester to where the elder lay, under the heaped covers, unable to avoid checking for himself.

Dean was deathly pale, his lips slightly blue and his breathing shallow yet his body twitched constantly with tiny tremors. His fingers grasped at the sheet over him and his lips moved but no coherent words were forthcoming. Beneath his closed eyelids his eyes darted back and forth in agitation.

"Is he feverish?"

Sam lowered the mug from his lips.

"No. He's still cold if anything."

Bobby moved forward and gently lay his hand on the unconscious man's forehead.

"The heating's up as high as it'll go..."

Sam smiled.

"I know, Bobby. It's like a furnace in here."

The elder man took in the younger's sweat-stained T-shirt and glistening face.

"Why don't you take a rest, Sam? Go get a breath of air. I'll stay here with him..."

He knew even as the words left his lips that there was not a cat in hell's chance that the hunter would take him up on his offer.

"I'm fine, Bobby. I need to be here when he wakes up. You know what damage he can do if he comes too and doesn't know where he is or where I am!"

Sam smiled weakly, trying to make light of his dreadful anxiety. Bobby returned the smile knowing damn well that Sam knew he was equally as worried.

"How's Raphe?"

Bobby followed Sam's eyes to the door, indicating the bedroom opposite where he knew the healer angel slept.

"He's alright, I think. Uriel's still in there with him. He woke again about two hours ago. Managed to get him to eat some oatmeal before he nodded off again. He's exhausted but Uri seems to think he's gonna be fine. Says he's never seen a healing hit him so hard before, but then Raphe said he would never have been able to do what Dean managed."

Sam glanced back at Dean as Bobby said his name and the older man could see the muscles tighten in Sam's jaw.

"Raphe wanted to come check on Dean himself but..."

Sam's concerned gaze flicked back to Bobby and the old man held his hand up.

"Don't worry, we persuaded him not to. He could barely hold the oatmeal spoon so what he thought he was gonna do in here I'm not sure anyways."

Sam smiled weakly and they both fell back to contemplating their fallen comrade. Seconds passed slowly.

"He will be okay, won't he, Bobby?"

The question was soft, hesitant and tore at Bobby's heart worse than the slashing Were's claws had. He waited for Sam's fear-widened eyes to find his before he answered.

"Yes. He will, Sam. Once Raphe is a bit stronger he can take a look at him and he'll know what to do."

Sam nodded vigorously, brushing self-consciously at the moisture brimming in his hazel eyes, trying to hang onto the certainty he knew Bobby was trying so hard to show for him.

"You don't think...Belial could use Dean's exhaustion to..."

Sam paused; scared to articulate his thoughts in case it made them reality.

"To possess him?"

Bobby watched Sam swallow down a lump the size of the Impala.

"No. I don't think that bastard has him, Sam."

The young hunter nodded, but unfortunately there was no real confidence in the gesture.

"Anything more from Michael and Raguel?"

"I just talked to them..."

Uriel's soft voice answered from the hallway and both Sam and Bobby turned toward him as he stepped forward to lean against the doorframe. He made only hesitant eye contact with either man and Sam felt the projected guilt settle over the room like a heavy blanket.

"How's Raphael, Uri?"

Sam's question demanded a response and the angel raised his oddly ethereal gaze to meet the hunter's.

"He's fine, Sam. Just sleeping. He'll be okay when he regains his strength. As good as new!"

Sam smiled, as did Bobby. Genuine smiles for the healer angel they had grown to love.

"I'm glad...And you, Uri?"

The angel winced at the kindly voiced question. He took in the dark dried blood stains on the hunter's shredded T-shirt and relived again the awful moment he knew his hasty shot was gonna tear through Sam's chest and stop his heart.

"Sam, I'm so sorry..."

"Stop, Uri, please. There's no need for an apology. I know it was an accident. So just leave it now. Okay?"

The blond angel swallowed hard and nodded, not trusting himself to speak for a moment.

"So...what did Michael say?"

Bobby snapped the angel's focus back into the room.

"He's still not clear what has happened to Belial, where he is now."

"So what does he want us to do?"

"Wait..."

Sam slammed the mug down on the bedside table, hot drops of coffee splashed on his hand scalding his skin as he rose angrily to his feet.

"Wait! Don't we need to get Belial put away once and for all? How's waiting gonna achieve that?"

Uriel could understand Sam's anger but still didn't like to have his brother's decisions second-guessed.

"Sam. We all need to be together to perform the binding. At the moment they are stuck there and we're here. Michael daren't leave the Gate and clearly Raphe and Dean..."

The soft voice from the door had a tone of amusement in it that almost masked the terrible exhaustion.

"Clearly Raphe what?"

The trio turned to the speaker and Raphael bowed slightly as he swayed a little in the doorway.

"Raphe!"

Uriel's sharp tone admonished his brother as his strong arm helped him to a seat on the edge of the empty bed.

"What on earth are you doing up, Raphe? You need to rest."

Uriel fussed about as the older angel smiled and indulged him.

"I'm fine, Uriel. Stop your fussing!"

The older being patted his brother's forearm and the blond angel sat down beside him on the bed, determined to be on hand if needed.

"It's good to see you awake, Raphe."

Sam's words were heartfelt and the healer smiled in response.

"It's good to be awake, Sam. I've never been so drained by my work in the past but then I have never been part of such an ambitious healing, nor one done so quickly. The damage you two had endured was huge. There was no way I could have dealt with Bobby's head injury, let alone your wound. You were a goner, Sam...Both of you were, if Dean hadn't intervened."

The younger hunter looked across to Bobby and watched as the older man pulled off his ever present cap and rubbed at his eyes in amazement.

"How is he?"

Raphael rose from the bed as he spoke and made towards Dean. His gait was wobbly and Sam moved swiftly, helping the healer to the chair he had vacated from where he could safely check out his patient.

The healer angel lifted his hands, moving them towards Dean, eager to know how he fared.

"Raphe..."

Uriel restrained him with a strong hand to his forearm.

"It's alright, brother. I only want to check him out."

"No healing?"

The younger angel's solicitous frown warned the older being off and he laughed, grateful for his brother's concern.

"No, Uriel. I know my limitations. I need to recoup my strength a little more before I'd really be any good to him anyway."

The blond angel nodded and removed his restraining hold and Raphael's practised hands hovered over the inert form of the fallen hunter as the room fell to silence.

wWw

"But how do you know they are not in danger?"

Jo's voice was strident with fear and though the tone was bordering on disrespectful Michael let it slide. He knew what it was to care for someone and suffer the terror of their struggles. He kept his voice calm and steady as he responded to the angry huntress.

"I cannot know for certain, Jo, and Dean's lifestyle means that he makes himself a much more prominent target than the average human, as you know. But Raguel and I, and Raphe and Uriel too, have a job to do just as Sam and Dean do and I cannot..."

The diminutive woman pushed closer to the impressively built angel. He towered over her yet she showed no fear.

"Cannot, Michael? Cannot or will not? The Gates are holding and it's silent as the damn grave here now. Please...let's make a run for Bobby's and then, when you are all together, you can finish this."

Her forceful eyes bored into his and he was reminded again of how impressive humans were when they had a cause.

wWw

"Well?"

The nervousness was obvious in Sam's voice as Raphael withdrew his shaking hands. The healer closed his eyes for a second, regaining his strength before he spoke.

"He is basically all right, Sam."

Sam found his legs suddenly weak and he grabbed onto the metal bed frame to steady himself as he let out the breath he did not even know he had been holding.

"Basically?"

Bobby keenly appraised the older angel as he questioned.

"What the hell does that mean, Raphe? Basically?"

The healer opened his eyes and focused intently on the older man.

"Dean's body is trying to regain the energy it lost when he healed. He is still inexperienced and so he could not stop himself becoming absolutely sapped of power. To the point where now even keeping himself warm is a supreme effort. The energy is returning and he is unharmed physically by the healing. The pain he felt during it is gradually diminishing and he will recover consciousness soon. What he did was nothing short of miraculous but its unprecedented effort took him virtually to his limit."

"Can he hear us? Does he know we're here?"

Sam reached down and rested his hand on the covers over Dean's foot as he spoke.

"Yes, Sam. He is vaguely aware of our presence in the room but I think it will be a few hours yet till you see him able to respond."

Sam smiled then and patted absently at the heap of blankets, relief flooding his worried features.

Raphael smiled in return and then turned to his brother angel.

"So, Uriel. You were saying...'clearly Raphe and Dean...'?"

The younger being looked bemused, his thinking having moved on in the last few moments.

"I just meant that Michael dare not leave the Gates unwatched and there was no way you and Dean could make the journey, so there is nothing we can do currently to finish this."

He raised his eyebrow quizzically as Raphe looked from him to Dean and finally to Sam.

"On the contrary, my brother. So long as we keep him warm, Dean will be as safe in the car as he is here. He can sleep as we drive, as can I, and if we set off now we can be with our brothers by sunrise."

Bobby looked critically from his place by the door to the older of the angels.

"Are you sure?"

His voice was serious, as was his face.

Raphael returned his gaze.

"I want done of this Bobby as I think do we all. I want that daemon driven so far into the pit that he can never hurt human or angel again. I believe that, once my brothers and I are together, we will be able to lock Belial away forever and then you and Sam and Jo and, most of all, Dean, will be safe."

The portentous statement hung heavy in the air for a few seconds, each occupant of the overly warm room contemplating its outcome. It was left to Bobby to respond for them all.

"Then what the hell are we waiting for? Let's go bag us a daemon!"

Chapter ends


	24. Chapter 24

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 24 To The Gates

"Michael, you're just gonna have to trust me on this one."

Raphe's voice was not raised as he spoke on the cell from his seat by Dean's bed, but the tone made it apparent to anyone hearing it that the subject was no longer open for discussion.

"I know it's dangerous but I think it'd be more dangerous to fail to isolate Belial and let him find a way to draw on Dean's power and use it for his own ends. At least if we have him in Tartarus we will know where he is and be able to keep him from the Winchesters. I think this is our best chance and if we miss it...Well, I don't want to contemplate what could happen. Dean is just so powerful, Michael. I've never experienced anything like it...I can't imagine what would happen if Belial..."

Raphe paused, clearly allowing his brother angel to respond. Uriel watched the healer's pale face as he listened and smiled as he saw determination tighten Raphael's features. Michael could be daunting in an argument but Raphe's calm persistence was not a force to be under- estimated either.

"Yes, I understand that you're unclear as to exactly where Belial is but surely with the 4 of us together we can finally pull him from wherever he hides and force him back to his prison?"

"Uri?"

The blond angel rose and hurried out of the bedroom, leaving Raphe to his conversation as he headed for the front door, his name reverberating up the corridor. His limp slowed him a little, his leg having stiffened as he sat.

"Uriel?"

The second asking was more strident and the angel called back to Bobby as he emerged.

"Yeah, yeah, old timer. Hold your horses, I'm coming."

The angel didn't realise that the hunter was walking towards the bedroom as he called and so as Uriel emerged from Dean's room, he walked straight into the lugubrious man.

"Old Timer?"

Bobby muttered his eyes dark beneath the peak of his cap and Uriel had the good sense to quirk his mouth into an apologetic smile as he answered.

"Term of endearment, affection and deep, deep respect, Bobby..."

The old man held his gaze for a few seconds, his face deadpan.

"Ya celestial Idjit!"

Uriel grinned.

"Have you loaded all your crap in the car?"

Bobby inclined his head toward the door and the angel could see out to where Sam was carrying an armful of weapons towards the Impala.

"Yup, Bobby, Sam already took my stuff...I travel light...spare halo, oil for my feathers, stunning good looks. That's about it."

His grin intensified as he spoke and he delighted as he watched a slight smile twitch the edge of the hunter's mouth.

"We leave in 5 minutes. Tell Raphe he'd better get a move on. Okay?"

Bobby was turning away as he spoke, heading for the door.

"We going in Dean's relic?"

Uriel's question had him turn back, the older man's face hardening a touch.

"Be sure he's still out cold when ya say that, boy. That relic is family, she's a work of pure beauty and don't you forget it."

Uriel rolled his eyes. Another classic car fan!

"I just wondered if there'd be enough room, that's all. There's 5 of us and Dean's gonna need room to stretch out if he's gonna sleep..."

He paused as Raphe's weary voice chimed in from the bedroom.

"Now, my brother..."

Bobby glanced towards the door behind Uriel as a tired looking Raphe emerged closing the cell phone. The older angel clamped his hand on the smaller being's shoulder.

"You know damn well that there's nowhere that Dean would sleep better than in the Impala, Uri, however, cramped she might be."

He smiled at Bobby, understanding as well as the older man that Dean's bond with the old Chevy was something more than mere 'man and motor'.

The old hunter nodded imperceptibly in response as Raphael addressed his brother.

"Dean and I will take the back seat, Uri. I'm pretty sure that if we give him a few more hours sleep he'll be almost as good as new and we can manage just fine. We've travelled in much worse circumstances."

He squeezed Uriel's shoulder as he spoke, just hard enough to warn his sometimes argumentative brother to silence.

"Okay with you, Bobby?"

The older hunter inclined his head, smiling wryly.

"Exactly what I was thinkin', Raphe. Everythin' okay with Michael?"

He nodded at the cell forgotten in the angel's hand. Raphael pursed his lips.

"It will be, I think, when we get there..."

Bobby raised an eyebrow and Raphe grinned apologetically.

"He worries...for all of us!"

The older hunter's face was understanding.

"Suppose it comes with the job?"

Raphael opened his mouth to answer but Uriel beat him to it.

"Nah, Bob, he's a born worrier, in fact...Ouch!"

Raphe released his iron grip a little as his brother rubbed at his shoulder, white eyes fixed accusingly on Raphe's innocent face.

"We'll be right there. Okay, Bobby?"

The old hunter laughed and made for the door.

"Okay. Tell Dean we're nearly ready. Sam'll be by and get him in two minutes."

wWw

Michael closed the cell phone and sucked in a slow breath before walking the couple of paces back to where Jo and Raguel sat on the tailgate of the SUV. Clouds of red dust stirred as he walked, hiding his feet and making it appear as if he floated above the ground.

The effect was 'angelic' and within his hidden host Belial laughed at the absurdity of the image.

"They'll be here by dawn."

The prince of angel's tone was deliberately neutral but Raguel could hear the undercurrent of uncertainty in his brother's voice.

"They are all alright?"

Jo handed a bottle of water to Michael as she spoke and he cracked the top and drained half gratefully before answering her.

"Yes, Jo, they are all well. Judging by our discussion Raphe's usual strength is returning..."

He raised an ironic eyebrow at Raguel as he spoke and the huge angel grinned happily.

"And Dean?"

"He is still unconscious but Raphe says it's just his body's way of allowing him to recoup his strength and that by the time they get here he should be awake, at least."

The huntress smiled and leaned into Raguel's reassuring pat on the back.

"You'll be pleased to see him?"

The seated angel's question raised all sorts of emotions within Jo. She and Dean had not parted on good terms and there was the whole question of Uriel to complicate things, but then if she closed her eyes she could see nothing but the deep green of a certain complicated hunter's eyes.

"Yes. Of course, I want to know he's okay. Sam, too. Isn't that natural?"

Guilt paled her face as she glanced between them and Raguel tightened his embrace.

"Of course it is, Jo. They're your colleagues, your friends. Certainly you'd be worried for them. It'll feel good to be all together again."

The big angel had grown very fond of his tiny comrade as they had battled and her distress had become his too.

"Indeed it will."

Michael's soft voice added.

"So many reunions to contemplate."

Inside his host Belial smiled, imagining his own longed for reunion with a certain Winchester.

wWw

Sam tied the laces on Dean's second boot and straightened up from the bed, unnerved by the persistent stillness from his unconscious brother. He looked across at Raphael and the healer smiled as he stood and walked across to the bedroom door.

"He's fine, Sam. Don't worry. Give him a few more hours and he'll be back to himself. He's just finding his energy again."

The younger Winchester smiled hesitantly.

"It's just weird, Raphe...he's normally so..."

Sam stopped, unsure what word would best encapsulate Dean. He found none and shrugged, bending to begin the task of easing his unresisting brother into a sitting position so he could lift him and was surprised to find Uriel waiting at his side.

"I'll help you get him into the car..."

The angel's voice was part request, part challenge and Raphe watched in interest to see Sam's response. Sam regarded the angel critically for a few seconds, appraising him. Working through whether he trusted any part of Dean's care to this less than perfect divine being. Tense seconds passed before Sam finally responded.

"Okay. You take his left side. You're shorter so he won't have to lift his shoulder as high."

The angel nodded, relieved, and sat on the bed to Dean's left side as Sam eased him upright. Dean was floppy, like a baby before it can hold its head upright, and Sam braced him as Uriel scooted under his arm and threw the sleeping man's left hand across his own shoulders.

"Got him?"

The angel nodded to Sam and the tall hunter bent and placed Dean's other arm similarly about his own shoulders, simultaneously grasping Dean's belt with his left hand.

"On three..?"

The angel moved his hand and mirrored the hold as Sam counted.

"Two...three..."

They rose slowly and Sam felt his brother's head roll against his shoulder as Uriel sagged a little under Dean's weight.

"You okay?"

Sam looked past Dean's lowered head to the angel.

"Uh huh! He's heavier than he looks..."

Uriel's voice was slightly strained and Sam grinned openly.

"'S'all muscle!"

Uriel snorted.

"Yeah, well let's get in the damn car before all this muscle kills me!"

wWw

The purr of the Impala's engine was soft and soothing and Dean slept, comfortably propped in a nest of pillows and blankets in the back seat of his baby, as they polled through the night towards the guardians waiting at the Gates. Awareness returned slowly and at first it was just a distant vibration of voices or the flicker of lights through his closed eyelids, but as the night wore on, he found himself reaching out to try and listen to the voices around him.

He knew he was in the Impala. Her smell if nothing more told him he was safe, home. Old leather, gun oil, powder residue all caressed his nose and he yawned quietly as the voices burbled around him before the exhaustion drew him back to sleep.

The next time he awoke, he shifted a little, easing the ache in his shoulder. He could hear Sam's voice, strangely coming from in front of him. Was he in the back? He lifted his head from the seat back and carefully prised his heavy eyes open.

The image was blurry and he tried to move his hands to rub the sleep from his eyes but they seemed pinned down.

He tried to speak. Sam. At least that's what it had started out as in his head but it seemed to get lost on the way out of his mouth. He tried again.

"S...mm..?"

Raphael turned on the big back seat and smiled happily as he watched Dean's dilated eyes searching for focus. The hunter was wriggling weakly against the cocoon of blankets and mumbling softly. The angel reached forward a hand and rested it on the shoulder of the younger Winchester, disturbing him as he argued with Uriel about the structure of divine hierarchy.

"Sam. Dean's waking up."

Sam's head whipped round towards the healer angel just as Dean managed his 'S...mm..?' and Raphael smiled as the young hunter's face lit up with undisguised delight.

"Dean!"

Sam was instantly on his knees facing into the back of the car so he could check on his brother's condition, as Raphe loosened the blankets wrapping Dean. Sam grinned with relief as the older Winchester raised a shaky hand and brushed at his gummy eyes.

"How you feeling?

Dean lowered his hand and looked blearily around the car. Bobby was driving, so that was okay. He considered the question for a few seconds.

"Aaah, Sleepy, I guess."

Sam laughed and Dean grinned dozily.

"You've been asleep for hours..."

Dean nodded, yawning as he struggled to sit up a bit straighter. The movement made his shoulder grind a little and he started at the pain.

"You hurting?"

Sam's big hand stretched over the back of the seat, reaching for his brother as Raphael mirrored the movement.

Dean wriggled back from the grasping hands.

"Hey, hands off merchandise, boys!"

He smiled, yawning again.

"It's old pain, nothing new."

They nodded, relieved and Dean rubbed his face again trying to clear the fuzziness from his thoughts.

"Where are we?"

He squinted out of the window at the fast moving scenery, the lights of the highway making his eyes smart.

"About half way to the Gates."

Bobby's eyes found Dean's in the driver's mirror.

"You okay, boy?"

His voice was gruff but Dean heard his concern beneath the words. He yawned again and though he tried he could feel his eyes closing.

"I'm good, Bobby. You riding her easy?"

The old hunter smiled as he watched sleep reclaim Dean.

"Don't know no other way, son."

wWw

"Dean?"

The elder Winchester started awake, conscious that the car had stopped and cool, fresh air was blowing in through the open door. Sam was crouched by the side of the car looking in and the rest of the car's occupants were heading for the diner they were now parked in front of.

"You hungry?"

Dean nodded and reached for Sam's hand as he stretched his arm into the car to help his brother out. The cool night air refreshed him a little as he swayed a bit; Sam's steadying hand rested protectively on his shoulder.

"You good to go?"

Sam's face was concerned and Dean nodded his head and stood a bit straighter.

"Sure am, dude. Let's go eat."

wWw

The diner was like the hundreds of others Dean had eaten in all his life but, yet as he struggled tiredly with his food, he was struck by how unlike any routine collection of diner patrons this particular gathering was.

They had filled him in that they were on their way to finally put Belial away for good and, whilst the thought that they would all be safe from the daemon permanently was comforting, Dean was still worried. No, check that. It was way more than anxiety. Dean was plain scared, maybe even terrified.

Uri and Raphe were adamant that he and Sam and Bobby would need to have nothing more to do with Belial's final incarceration yet somehow, knowing how his previous meeting with the daemon had played out, Dean remained unconvinced.

The mug appeared before him as his head nodded in tired contemplation, and Raphael pushed the cream laden beverage toward him.

"It's hot chocolate..."

The angel smiled sympathetically as Dean dropped the fry he had been disinterestedly contemplating and put his hands around the warm mug.

"Your blood sugar is low from the healing, Dean. You need some carbs. There's lots of sugar in it. Drink it."

Dean nodded and swallowed a mouthful of the calorie rich drink.

"Good?"

He nodded.

"It'll warm you up, too. Healing often leaves me feeling cold."

Dean smiled, realising his feet were absolutely freezing now Raphe mentioned it.

"The tiredness will pass soon."

Raphe returned the smile as he nudged the bottom of the cup and Dean dutifully sipped the chocolate. If truth be known, though he likely wouldn't openly admit it, he liked hot chocolate. It was something he remembered from his youth. A special occasion treat or something John would get him as a soother when he'd been terrified or was sick.

The sweet, creamy liquid flowed down easily and a pleasant, fuzzy warmth suffused his body. He didn't really remember getting back into the car.

wWw

Belial looked out through the eyes of his reluctant host and felt the terror of being unable to control their own body flood richly through their mind. He smiled; revelling in the growing horror and disgust the host felt at his possession of their body and forced them to join wholeheartedly in the welcoming of the arriving angel/hunter troop. Another few minutes and all would be in place, just as he wanted, and then he would launch his attack. Until then he hunkered down, biding his time and maintained stealth mode.

wWw

They exited the car en masse, hunters making first for their fellow huntress and angels for brother angels as Dean slept on in peaceful slumber in his tangle of blankets on the back seat.

"Sam! Bobby!"

Jo's arms were warm around the grinning hunter's neck and Sam raised her in his own arms with no effort at all, hugging her tightly.

"It's good to see you, Jo. Are you okay?"

She squeezed him back and Sam noted she smelled of smoke and sulphur and her clothes were covered in soot and dust.

"I'm fine, just fine. And you?"

She was appraising him minutely as he lowered her carefully to her feet.

"I'm fine, too."

She put her hand to his chest, over the so recently healed wound.

"Really?"

Concern shone in her dilated eyes. He covered her hand with his own.

"Really...Totally healed! We both are."

Sam smiled, unable to keep a touch of awe from his voice and Jo's eyes slipped to the older hunter in question.

"That right, Bobby? You're really both okay?"

Bobby stepped forward into her embrace as he replied.

"'S'true, Jo. Dean and Raphe sorted us both out just fine.

"Dean more than me..."

Raphael touched Jo softly on the shoulder as he spoke and the huntress turned and happily kissed the tall, lean angel on the cheek.

"It's good to see you, Jo."

He hugged her warmly as she watched Raguel shaking Sam and Bobby firmly by the hand.

"Are you well? Did my brothers look after you properly?"

He released the huntress and stepped back from her, his healer's eye assessing her for injury. Jo nodded.

"Yes. They mothered me outrageously. Didn't ya, Rags?"

She bumped hips with the huge being and Raguel blushed a little.

"Well, I don't know about that..."

He grinned back at her; enjoying the banter with this girl he had come to admire so.

"In fact, Raphael, I'd have to say they were...well... perfect angels!"

Their laughter drew Uriel and Michael from their own embrace, back to the group.

wWw

Dean awoke with a start, uncoiling from his cocoon of blankets, disorientated for a moment, to find himself alone in the car. Panic gripped him, pumping his heart against his ribs and dilating his sleepy green eyes until he heard the voices of his companions, raised in laughter just outside the car. He rose stiffly from his seat, exiting the Impala, anxious to rejoin them. Nervous to know all was well.

He sensed the insidious presence of the daemon as he took the first steps towards the angels.

wWw

Belial smiled, forcing his host to smile too as the tall, lithe hunter strode towards the assembled group. He watched Dean's demeanour of relief at seeing his brother change rapidly and he knew that the older Winchester had felt his presence. He laughed, revelling in the look of sheer terror that paled the hunter's face.

wWw

Sam knew something was wrong before a single word had passed Dean's lips. He had turned to face his brother as the slam of the Impala's door attracted his attention and watched in increasing panic as Dean's face bled of all colour and terror flooded his eyes. He knew it could only be the daemon. The words were on his lips as Belial made his move.

"Dean. Where?"

"Jo!"

Was the hunter's horrified response.

wWw

The huntress laughed as she raised her arms and the power of the daemon flowed from her finger tips. She floored Bobby with a casual gesture and then targeted Raguel and Michael even as they turned toward her, disbelief and anger on their shocked faces. She twitched a finger and slammed them hard into the gates that they had fought so hard to defend, pinning them, choking them so they could barely breathe, let alone speak, against the cold metal. Uriel and Raphe were thrown against the side of the SUV and similarly held, squirming silently in Belial's ethereal grip.

"Stop right there, Dean."

It was Jo's soft voice but with an edge of danger and menace that shocked Sam. He glanced horrified at his brother and was surprised to see him obey, holding his hands before him in a gesture of surrender.

"Don't...Belial, please...don't hurt them."

Dean's voice was cracked with emotion. Sam could hear desperation, revulsion for what the daemon might do and also fear for what he may be forced to do in response. He hated the hold this creature had over his brother and his face betrayed that as they made eye contact. He could not stand by and watch Dean in such distress, however futile the gesture might be.

"Don't, Sam..!"

Dean's words were a second too late to halt the younger man's hasty and foolish actions and the daemon within Jo shook off Sam's attempt at restraint with a single shrug of her slight shoulders. Weakness suffused his body as all energy flowed from him into her, the daemon feasting on his strength. The feeling was horrifying, like being sucked dry but there was nothing he could do to resist. And what was worse was that he knew that his foolishness had made the daemon stronger still.

Jo held him briefly, her tiny fist grasping the front of his shirt as she shook his massive frame like it was weightless.

"Sam...Sammy! What would ever make you think that you are a match for me?"

Belial spoke through her as she smiled sweetly, taking the silver dagger he had palmed from his wrist holster from him and dropping him, like a rag doll, to his knees in the red dust. She grabbed his hair and bent his head back painfully so his eyes found hers.

They were black. Deep, glossy black.

"Even your brother cannot match me and he is infinitely more adept than you, Sam."

She tugged the kneeling hunter's hair for emphasis exposing his neck, using the knife to drag a shallow crimson path from ear to collar bone and Sam grunted in pain as his eyes flicked, panic stricken, to Dean.

"What do you want, Belial?"

Dean's voice was quiet, steady instantly focusing the obsidian eyes firmly upon him. It held none of the anger Sam would have expected and he was instantly terrified that the softness heralded defeat.

The daemon smiled and twitched Jo's fingers, flinging Sam's tall frame to the ground.

"Stay, Sammy!"

She laughed knowing he had only the energy left to breathe shallowly as she stepped over him towards Dean.

"I want your power, Dean. All of it. I want to see you beg at my feet for the lives of this vermin you hold so dear and then I want to watch the life fade from your pretty eyes as I kill you."

She smiled lecherously as she said the words, laying her hand against his waist as she drew level with him, laughing as she felt him flinch from her touch.

"Oh, Dean...You'll hurt little Jo's feelings. She cares so tenderly for ya."

The daemon walked his host body around the stilled hunter as he spoke with Jo's sweet voice. He trailed her hands appreciatively over taut muscle as Belial moved her gracefully, revelling in the shudders of revulsion he felt from Dean.

"Let her go. She's nothing to you..."

Dean looked into the midnight darkness of Jo's eyes as her face drew level with his again and she smiled. An evil, cruel smile.

"No. I agree, to me she is inconsequential. But she matters to you. They all matter so much to you, Dean. Powerful as you are that is your ultimate weakness. You let them matter too much."

Jo walked away from Dean as Belial spoke though her, and he turned her to look coquettishly over her shoulder as she tormented.

"And anyway, don't you remember how I love to tease!"

Jo stopped by the SUV and Dean's heart sank as she glanced at Uriel pinned helplessly to the side of the vehicle, before looking back to him.

"And she is something to this angel as well."

She leaned close as she spoke, pressing her body to Uriel's as she brushed her cheek against his. He raged against her touch, growling mutely, his eyes betraying his fury.

"Doesn't this make you angry, Dean?"

Jo ran her hand up the blond angel's flat stomach as she spoke, her eyes locked on Dean's pale green ones, genuinely interested in his answer.

Dean bit down his rage, not wanting the daemon to see that the daemon's actions were getting to him.

"Jo makes her own choices."

The daemon laughed and inclined Jo's head, observing first Dean and then Uriel.

"She is torn; I can sense it within her. Lust rises within her when she looks on either of you but there's something else, too, when she sees you, Dean...I think you have the edge in her affections."

Uriel growled, straining at the invisible bonds that held him as he listened, and Jo turned back to him, laughing. She placed her hand on his cheek and he had not the power to shrug her off.

"Oh, angel. Have I emasculated you?"

She stepped slightly away from the struggling being.

"Maybe a healthy dose of pity would give you an advantage with her?"

She glanced at Dean, Belial's cruelty twisting Jo's pretty mouth.

"Don't!"

Dean made to move to restrain her as hatred blazed on her delicate features.

"Move and I'll kill them all where they stand!"

Jo raised her arms, her eyes flickering from captive to captive as beyond the Gates the howls of Belial's followers again became the noisy backdrop to their discussion. Dean stilled his eyes resting on Sam where he lay in the dirt.

Belial aimed the powerful kick to perfection, hitting Uriel's fragile knee with the huntress' instep. The angel's leg collapsed as the knee joint imploded, the recently healed bone and sinew shattering under the nauseating impact. Uriel's initial scream was muted by the daemon's control of him but Belial's hold could not restrain his tears.

"Oh, such pretty pain..."

The daemon clapped Jo's hands in delight at Uriel's suffering as she stepped back to Dean's side.

"Shall we give him his voice?"

Jo blinked and Dean watched as Uriel pulled in a huge sob of air, gasping and moaning in pain as he hung suspended on the shattered limb.

"B...bitch!"

Jo laughed and slid her arm around Dean's waist.

"Oh, that's not gonna win you the battle, angel! Calling her a bitch won't score you points."

Jo giggled.

"Will it, Dean?"

She looked up into his eyes and saw the revulsion for the perverse cruelty reflected there.

"You still don't understand me, do you?"

She let go his waist.

"Random cruelty and pain delight me, Dean. How many times must I teach you this?"

The scream was from his lips before his brain even registered what she had done and he staggered forward, clutching at the hilt of the knife where it protruded from his upper thigh. Adrenaline pumped around him as he pivoted on a shaky leg to face her. She looked into his dilated eyes, as her tongue licked at her pouting lips.

"That's it, Dean...find the fire within you. Feed me your power!"

She had reached the SUV as she spoke and from the open back took paired hunting knives from the collection of weapons stashed there. She raised the razor sharp blades to eye line, smiling over the vicious edge towards the hunter.

"Tell you what, Dean..."

She flung one of the blades towards the hunter and he started as it embedded itself into the dirt at his feet.

"Why don't you and Jo play a little? She can try and hurt you and you can decide if you have the guts to do what's needed to stop her killing you?"

Jo feinted quickly toward him, blade extended, as she spoke and Dean was forced to hobble back to avoid her slashing motion. The thigh wound made him clumsy on his normally graceful feet, though, and the tip of her dagger sliced into his forearm as he retreated. He hissed in pain and Belial had Jo laugh his delight.

"Oh, too slow, Dean."

She thrust at him again, standing over the blade he had failed to retrieve as he withdrew.

"You let a girl cut you!"

Jo kicked at the hilt of the blade, launching it to land at his feet and Dean reluctantly picked it up. His intent was only to prevent her having another weapon to hand, not to use it against his helpless friend.

They circled; Dean's dragging leg kicking up clouds of dust as he limped, the blossom of crimson widening on his jeans as his thigh pumped blood past the blade.

"Come on, Hunter!"

The daemon taunted but Dean refused to rise to it, knowing that the figure before him was his friend, corrupted by the foulness that was Belial. He couldn't hurt the daemon without harming, perhaps killing Jo and he couldn't contemplate that.

He fell back defensively and Jo's face darkened in anger.

"What? You don't wanna play with your little girlfriend, Dean?"

Jo moved back toward the SUV and the pinioned angels as she flicked drops of his blood from her blade.

"Well, maybe if I offer you some other incentive?"

She pressed the tip of her blade to Raphael's chest, over his heart and released his throat so he could speak.

"Tell him to fight back, Raphe. It's no fun at all if he won't play!"

The daemon within the huntress pushed the blade and the sharp point stabbed painfully into the angel's chest wall. He grimaced in pain.

"No. Belial. I will not be a party to your unholy games."

Raphael's voice was steady and emphatic and the daemon snarled.

"Maybe you will be the first to die then, angel!"

"R...Raphe..."

Uriel's sob was the soft precursor to Dean's launch of himself towards the possessed huntress. He took her about the waist, knocking her to the floor, pinning her with his larger bulk as he called frantically to the angels.

"Raphe...Uri...help me! The binding...recite the binding."

Jo raised the blade in her hand and slashed as hard as she could with her arms pinned. Rage twisted her face as she sliced thorough Dean's bicep and he grunted in pain, shifting his hands to keep a hold on her.

"They can do nothing, Hunter!"

Jo spat in Dean's face as she kicked out at him.

"Three of them and you could not banish me last time, why do you suppose two of them could now?"

Dean knew the truth of it as he saw the hatred of him in her face but he had nothing else to try.

"Uri...please! The binding...try it..."

He risked a glance toward the two restrained angels and found Uriel's agonised face. He nodded his understanding and Dean felt the familiar gathering of energy as the suffering being began his soft litany, supported by the stronger voice of his brother, Raphael.

Struggling desperately for release, Jo grasped the hilt of the knife embedded in the hunter's upper thigh, she smiled sweetly as the daemon within twisted it viciously, grinding it up against the bone. Dean screamed his grip loosening and her expression turned to rapture as she drank in his pain with a delight bordering on lust. Satiated, she paused, her face hardening.

"Enough of this."

She yanked her hand free and smashed into Dean's recently dislocated shoulder as she spat in disgust and the hunter saw stars as pain flared unmercifully in the fragile joint. His grip on Jo loosened and he rolled off her gasping loudly, clutching at his abused leg and shoulder, his renewed agonies distracting the healer angel from the binding.

"Dean?"

Raphe's distressed shout echoed over the rising cacophony coming from behind the shuddering gates and Belial took his opportunity to flee the huntress' body as the binding litany was broken. Black smoke twisted into the fetid atmosphere as he swirled into his gaseous form, eyeing his desired target gleefully as he swooped into the undefended mouth of his next horrified victim.

Chapter ends


	25. Chapter 25

Apologies for a couple of swear words but everyone is a bit upset!

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 25 Hello Mikey! 

Sam watched in cold dread the events as they unfolded before him. He struggled unsuccessfully to rise as Belial fled his temporary host and Jo's vacated body crumpled to the floor. She fell not far from where he sprawled, her lax body kicking up plumes of the soft, red earth as she tumbled to land next to Bobby's prostrate form.

The tiny figure lay shockingly still and pale and Sam pushed on kitten weak arms, trying to move to her to see if she still lived. However, Belial's touch had left him so drained that he could barely find the strength to raise his head, let alone go to her aid.

Tears of frustration tracked through the dirt on his face as he turned his head toward his brother, pleading for Dean's help with the huntress. But his brother was in no better shape than he, worse if anything. The elder Winchester lay on his side, eyes squeezed tightly shut and his head flung back in pain, as he clutched at his injured shoulder.

Sam's head fell weakly back to the soft earth, terror pervading his body where energy should have been, knowing that they were entirely at Belial's mercy.

wWw

Michael howled in agony as the daemon invaded his defenceless body, violating wantonly as it gleefully possessed him again. The familiar disgust that he had suffered for all the years that Belial had governed him returned instantly, flooding him with revulsion and stark helplessness.

His torment was heightened still further by the look of terrified recognition marking Dean's face as he writhed on the floor, his hand pressed to his throbbing shoulder, and the expression of abject abandonment on Uriel's pale face. The daemon smiled, seeing the perverse similarity between angel and hunter and revelling in the pleasure their shared pain would lend him.

"Ah! That's better."

Belial quirked Michael's reluctant lips into a smile as he flexed his way into the familiar flesh of his long-known host, shrugging on the angel's skin as if it were a comfortable old coat.

"The girl was an interesting host but this is far more befitting of me. Feels almost like coming home."

The daemon rolled his head experimentally on Michael's strong shoulders, smiling as he felt the disciplined body move according to his bidding.

"It is nice to feel some divine strength again."

He looked to the crumpled form of the fallen huntress as he spoke, eyeing her still body with contemptuous, obsidian eyes.

"Let me go to her, Belial. Please!"

Raphael strained against the daemon's bonds as Michael laughed at his request.

"Raphe, Raphe! Always worrying about these insignificant little specs of humanity. "

He made his way menacingly towards the healer angel as he spoke.

"Forget her."

The healer angel reared back as his brother's face thrust into his own.

"In a few moments you will have far more than her fate to worry you!"

wWw

Dean's shoulder was aflame with renewed agony and he writhed, helplessly in the dirt, clutching his arm in towards his hitching chest, trying to minimise the movement that made him sick to his stomach. He was pretty sure that the joint was dislocated again, if the sickening grinding was anything to go by, but daren't flex his shoulder enough to be certain as he knew the added pain might push him beyond his fragile limit and he would pass out. Attractive as that prospect of oblivion was at this particular moment, he knew that it would do no one any good. If he was gonna help put Belial away once and for all he needed to hang on to his tenuous grip on consciousness.

He concentrated on controlling his breathing, slow and even, pushing down the pain and nausea until he could draw in enough oxygen to open his eyes without the world greying out. However, when he did the sight that greeted him was not a comforting one.

Sam was still lying helplessly on the ground, his energy sapped by the daemon's unnatural touch and Dean could see that he, too, had barely the strength to breathe, let alone be of any help. His pain-dilated, green eyes found his brother's, a wealth of questions transferring wordlessly between then in a single, familiar glance.

'_Sam. Are you alright? No...No energy...bastard daemon drained me dry! You? How bad are you hurt? 'M'fine, Sam...Like crap you are, Dean! Is your shoulder out again? Dunno, Sam. Doesn't matter anyway...where's Belial?'_

Sam's eyes took him to Jo, collapsed on the floor, still and unmoving and Dean knew as soon as he saw her that the daemon had abandoned her. Oh god, where had the sonofabitch moved to? Who of Dean's companions had the creature taken now for his vessel? He raised his gaze, the irony of déjà vu almost making him laugh were it not for the sudden fear gripping his heart, as his wide green eyes settled in abject horror on the imposing figure of the archangel Michael.

wWw

Belial looked through Michael's eyes into Raphael's gentle, grey gaze and the healer angel wept bitter tears knowing that his honourable, courageous brother was once again violated by the corruption of the daemon.

"Let him go..."

Raphe's voice was soft with emotion, but the daemon was indifferent to his plea. His laughter filled the air as he smiled maliciously.

"Oh, does it hurt you, Raphe? To know that he is my pawn once again? That I can make him do my bidding and he is powerless to stop me?"

He turned to look at Raguel as he spoke. The powerfully built angel was still pinioned against the rattling gates to hell and the huge being growled furiously in his ethereal bonds as Michael observed him.

"Don't, Belial. Please..."

The plea hung on Raphael's lips as Michael flexed his finger. Raguel's shoulders peeled from the hot metal of the gates as his upper body was drawn forward by the daemon's irresistible power.

"No... Raguel, look out!"

Raphe's cry was drowned out as Michael flicked his wrist contemptuously and Raguel's head clanged back viciously against the hot iron. A tight groan escaped the angel's lips as he lost consciousness, slumping to the floor, blood flowing from the gaping wound to the back of his head.

"You bastard!"

Uriel's voice held nothing but rage for the unprovoked actions of the daemon but his angular face was contorted by the excruciating pain from his wrecked knee.

"Let him go, you fucker! Get out of him! Get your filthy..."

Belial's blow was savage and swift, back-handing Uriel across the cheek, silencing him as blood ran from his split lip as he struggled against the daemon's restraint. The daemon delighted in the look of shock on the smaller being's face.

"Watch your blasphemous tongue, Uriel, or your big brother may just have to smack you around a little more."

Michael's face loomed in close to the smaller being, danger oozing from his words as Uriel bit his tongue.

"It's your fault that you're beloved Michael is in this position again."

The words stung at Uriel and his face betrayed the shame and anger he felt. Within his angel host, Belial delighted in the other's pain.

"Yes, Uri. All your fault that darling Mikey has a big bad daemon riding him hard again. If you'd been strong enough to keep me in Tartarus in the first place, as was your duty, then none of this would have happened. But you weren't, were you? I must admit, I'm very glad to say…Nor could you and your brothers bind me successfully, could you? So it's all down to you that I'm out and playing meat-suit puppets with your beloved Michael all over again."

Belial leaned in close, his face hovering only inches from Uriel's, his breath hot on the angel's cheek.

"How does that make you feel, angel? Just a little impotent?"

"Fuck you!"

Uriel spat the words passionately, vehemently, and Michael reared back to dodge the spittle that flew from the angel's lips. Uriel's defiance angered the daemon and he lashed out again, cracking his head to the side, widening the split in the diminutive angel's lip and rattling his teeth in his head.

"You should watch your tongue, if you want to keep it, boy."

Belial's voice was low and full of menace as he stepped back from the tethered angel and appraised him coolly once again. Uriel hung powerless in his ethereal grip, his back pressed against the side of the SUV, his ruined leg buckled beneath him, the knee canted at a painfully unnatural angle. Sweat beaded his brow, giving his pale face an unhealthy sheen. His hands were fisted at his sides, his rage contained only by the daemon's bonds.

Uriel hawked the blood from his mouth, spitting it into the dust at his brother's feet.

"Let me go, you son-of-a-bitch and I'll give you more than my tongue to watch."

Belial smiled to see the fury he had caused, and he projected his humour into Michael's smile. Not the angel's own benevolent smile but an evil, cruel leer.

"You wanna hit me, Uriel?"

"Damn right I do, you daemonic asshole!"

The smaller being struggled angrily against his bonds, the futility of the gesture amusing the daemon, making him chuckle.

"Uri..."

Raphael's voice was soft and sad.

"You can't, it's Michael, remember. Strike the body and it will not be Belial but Michael you injure."

Uriel turned his head towards the brother tethered beside him, incomprehension on his face. Raphael tried again, knowing his brother's rage was blinding him to the full meaning of his words.

"You cannot fight the daemon without striking at Michael, Uriel. Think, my brother!"

Horrified understanding slowly dawned on Uriel's face.

"Yeah, Uri..."

The daemon mocked.

"Strike me...Hurt the meat-suit and you hurt your precious brother."

He smiled at the angel's distress, taunting the suddenly deflated being.

"So come on, bring it on! I'll even give you a free shot."

Belial raised Michael's hand and unexpectedly released Uriel's bonds. The angel shrieked in pain as all his weight came to bear on his broken leg and he tumbled to the ground, cursing in agony as he fell.

"Uri!"

Raphe tried to reach out to his brother but Michael grinned as he retained him in his shackles.

"Come on, Archangel Uriel, most loyal of Gods divine servants..."

He paced before the fallen being as he spoke, jeering cruelly.

"Have your revenge on me. Come on."

Michael curled his palms toward himself, taunting freely.

"I'll give you a free swing."

He offered smiling.

Rage and fury collided within Uriel, boiling his blood to a pugilistic fervour and he made to rise, to strike out at the foulness that inhabited his beloved brother, but his leg would have none of it. He attempted a half hearted swing but ended up sprawled in a gasping heap at the possessed angel's feet, his hands wrapped around his shattered limb, rocking as white hot agony pulsed from toe to hip.

Michael bent and violently pulled back his brother's head.

"Poor Uriel. Never quite strong enough. Are ya? Never quite able to get it up! Always let everyone down in the end, don't ya?"

He smiled at the look of agony his words engendered in the injured being. The angel's pain was a delight to the daemon.

"Sound familiar, Dean?"

Belial looked through Michael's eyes at the elder Winchester and was pleased to see his words strike home. He laughed, revelling in his ability to wound. The daemon's glance took in the reflex twitch as the muscles in Dean's jaw tightened in anger and he was unsurprised to see him struggling to his knees. Belial smiled and relishing the gasps of pain that were music to his ears.

"Ah! I see it does, Dean. Tears you both apart to think that others will suffer as a consequence of your mistakes and ineptitude doesn't it? That your shared incompetence will result in the suffering of your loved ones?"

Belial crouched before Uriel as he spoke, inclining Michael's head so the stricken angel could see straight into the fathomless depths of his obsidian eyes.

"Want to know just how agonising this is for your precious Michael, Uri? Want to know how it feels to him to have me corrupt and defile him again?"

Uriel paled as his beloved brother's voice tormented him but he was unable to turn his face away from the daemon's onslaught.

"Behold, Uriel..."

Belial eased his grip on his host slightly.

"Witness the pain you have again wrought upon your brother."

Uriel gasped as Michael's eyes changed from possessed black to his own angelic violet in an instant. He saw the undisguised agony that Michael endured and he shrunk back in horror, knowing that Michael was fully cognisant of his abhorrent situation. The purgatory of his entrapment radiated from the familiar gaze and Uriel sobbed as his heart broke for his beloved brother.

"M...Michael...I'm so sorry"

He whispered, his grieving soul stripped bare in his agonised words and the daemon chuckled as he gave voice to his captive.

"U...Uri..."

Michael choked as he struggled to use his own throat that was no longer his to control. He wanted to ease the look of defeated terror he saw on his brother's pale face but knew, deep down, that allowing Uriel to know he was still aware within his body, but unable to resist the daemon, just compounded the agony. He longed to reach out to Uriel, to ease his despair but the daemon would not allow it. He screamed silently as Belial forced him back into his thrall.

"You motherfucker!"

Dean's gravelly voice betrayed the huge effort it had taken him to get to his feet and sweat was running from his hair, streaking the dirt on his face as he stood swaying before the daemon.

"It's me you wanted, isn't it? So then, take me and leave the others alone."

His left arm hung uselessly before him, the displaced joint canting it at an unnatural angle and fresh blood stained the knife wounds that he had received at Jo's possessed hand. He was barely able to stand and certainly in no shape to face down a being of Belial's incredible power.

Yet still he called the daemon out.

Sam watched as his brother's protector instincts automatically kicked in and while he applauded Dean's stance against the daemon, he could see that he was in no condition for a fight. Panic assaulted Sam and he struggled again to rise, fighting the over whelming lethargy that was the legacy of the daemon's touch.

"I wondered how long it would take you to get back in the game, Winchester. Never like to leave it too long before you like to offer yourself as a sacrifice."

Belial turned from the defeated angel, disdain on his host's handsome face, and confronted the beleaguered hunter.

"As always unable to resist championing the under-dog I see, Dean."

He smiled cruelly and Dean swallowed hard around the knot of fear in his chest as he looked upon the face of Mikey. Mikey, as he had known the daemon when he had tortured him to within an inch of his life, reawakened before his eyes.

"Be...careful...Dean..."

Sam sat on his haunches in the dust, unable to rise. Hunter and possessed angel both looked to the kneeling man. Belial laughed out loud.

"Sammy, you're up! Well done, boy. The pathetic Winchester tag-team back in action for one last time. How terribly fitting."

The daemon sneered disdainfully as he glanced from brother to brother.

"I am so glad you're here to see me finally break your arrogant, stubborn mule of a brother, once and for all."

The daemon took a step towards Sam as he spoke.

"Don't you go near him, you sonofabitch!"

Dean advanced towards Michael on relatively steady legs, his anxiety to protect Sam lending him some little strength. Belial halted and raised an eyebrow in amusement at the dishevelled hunter.

"Relax, Dean. Be assured, I have no real interest in Sam. He is insignificant in the grand scheme of things."

The daemon's soulless black eyes bored into Dean as he spoke and Michael's melodic voice rekindled recent memories of ceaseless pain that made Dean shudder.

"Well, only as an instrument to aide me with your destruction."

The statement was cold and merciless and Dean knew this would be a fight to the death, for one of them anyway.

"Leave him be then. Leave them all alone."

Dean spat the words angrily at the figure before him as his gaze took in the angels, Jo, Bobby and Sam.

"It's me you want and I'm right here..."

He thrust his chin toward the daemon belligerently.

"Come on then, Mikey! Take me, if you think you can."

It was a bold challenge and, had he been a little more stable on his feet, or a little less covered in fresh blood, it would have been more convincing. All the same it amused Belial and he nodded his head appreciatively.

"Dean, Dean, you humans are so...charming! Foolish and completely unrealistic in your expectations, but charming none the less."

The daemon smiled disarmingly as he spoke.

"I remember now why I so enjoyed our time together before. Your agony was so intense, your screams so hard won. It will please me beyond expression to rekindle our very personal acquaintance."

The daemon licked his lips and Dean could not suppress a shudder that coursed through him but still he plastered a cocky grin on his face.

"Yeah, well, in your dreams, Mikey-boy!"

The daemon growled a soft warning low in his throat.

"I will enjoy this, Dean. It is fitting that it be Michael who finishes you and apt that your angel friends are also here to watch you finally succumb to me. Your destruction, in light of the immense power you might have wielded, will remind them of their place. And as they are forced to sit by and watch me take your life, they will know that as you die I will take from you the power you have so defiantly refused to share with me and then I will turn it against the world."

The daemon's desire lit his eyes with a fierce fire and Dean swallowed down his fear in the face of the impossible odds before him, a flimsy, but desperate plan forming in his head.

wWw

The daemon came at Dean in a rush, using Michael's size and bulk to try and overwhelm the injured man, intent on inflicting maximum pain on the hunter before killing him. Dean, however, had anticipated the move and ducked to the side, deflecting much of the onslaught. But Belial was an experienced brawler and Michael's body fit and agile and the daemon turned sharply, grabbing the back of Dean's shirt, spilling him from his feet. He hit the ground with a thud, an audible cry of pain escaping his lips as he impacted.

The hard packed dirt bruised as Dean's hip smacked heavily onto the floor and he unthinkingly stretched with his left arm to steady himself. The movement ground the dislocated head of his humerus into the gritty socket of his shoulder and his scream of agony left no one in any doubt as to how much he hurt.

"Dean!"

The cry was from Sam's lips before the kick of dust rose from his tumbling brother and the younger man made to try and rise and assist his sibling. He didn't get far before the daemon flicked his hand, flooring Sam yet again, but it was enough to be a momentary distraction, allowing Dean to roll to his knees. He knelt, desperately clutching his ruined limb to his heaving chest as the red dust clouded around him. He could not push away the dizzying nausea nor control the pain that left him retching where he huddled and he looked toward his aggressor, his vision tunnelling as Michael strode toward him again.

Raphe capitalised too on the daemon's momentary distraction to force free his hand and painfully stretch forward to retrieve the silver dagger that had been abandoned when Jo had fought with Dean earlier. He held the knife in view only long enough for Dean to wheeze a confirming nod, acknowledging the weapon's presence, before palming the blade so the daemon remained oblivious to its whereabouts.

Dean staggered to his feet and scuttled inelegantly backwards, away from his attacker. Michael was on him in an instant and the powerful roundhouse connected heavily with Dean's jaw, flinging him face first to crash wildly into the gates, dropping him to his knees, momentarily stunned near to the fallen form of Raguel.

"Belial!"

Raphael's voice was strident, and the Prince of Angel's turned on his brother with a snarl on his angry face.

"What do you want, brother?"

The last word was spat with venom and hatred and Raphe flinched from him as the daemon's black gaze rested briefly upon him.

"Leave him be."

Raphe's words were soft, he knew it was a pointless request but he watched out of the corner of his eye as Dean crawled towards Raguel. He didn't yet fully understand the bloodied hunter's plan but he knew enough to see that Dean was up to something, and needed time to put his actions into place.

Dean, for his part, just hoped he could survive long enough to see it through!

Chapter ends.


	26. Chapter 26

**So Not An Angel! by DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 26 Bye-bye Mikey?

Being careful not to draw the daemon's attention to his actions, Dean slowly slid his hand across and laid it on Raguel's lower leg, pushing out his healing energy, seeking the head wound that had floored the giant of an angel. His increased familiarity with his healing powers allowed him to cloak his ministrations as he worked, so Belial would not feel the touch of his power as he repaired and knitted blood, bone and flesh to restore Raguel to health. The angel groaned softly as he regained consciousness and the hunter urgently squeezed his ankle, their eyes meeting as Dean desperately bade him to silence. He needed Belial to be unaware the angel was released from his bonds and able to voice his part in the binding when the time came.

Dean glanced towards the other two angels, relieved to see that Belial was still temporarily distracted by Raphe's condemnation of him. He looked back to Raguel and saw confusion in the angel's eyes.

"The binding..."

Dean whispered, tension making him a little breathless.

"When I say...I need you to recite the binding with Uri and Raphe."

Raguel nodded but concern showed in his eyes. He whispered.

"But will it work this time, Dean? The binding I mean?"

Dean made to shrug his shoulders but halted his ruined joint preventing him. Raguel winced in sympathy.

"I have no idea, Raguel, but I don't have anything else to try. You'll have to trust me."

The angel appraised Dean's face intently for a moment and then smiled.

"Good enough for me, Winchester. Faith is something I am more than familiar with. Let's give it a go. Until then, I play dead, yeah?"

Dean nodded and the angel winked his understanding before letting his face slacken back, with surprising ease, to that of his previous comatose state.

Dean removed his hand from the quiescent angel and, checking Belial was no wiser as to his plans, pushed against the soft dust as he made to rise. His muscles protested the movement and the trembling in his arm sent small shock waves all the way through him to his damaged shoulder and lacerated thigh. The pain made him nauseous and he stilled for a moment, biting down on the pain as the world swum alarmingly around him. The hilt of the small silver dagger, the pair to the one Raphe now protected, still protruded from his heavily bleeding leg. He panted, teeth clenched in pain as the assault of his wounds, new and reawakened, making him gasp.

The enormity of the situation pressed him like a lead weight to the swirling dust as he struggled to control his pain enough to rise. He didn't know if he could really do this but, like he'd admitted to Raguel, he had nothing else left to try and the alternative was unthinkable.

wWw

Sam crawled slowly through the dirt, determined to reach his brother's side and lend him what help he could even if it just meant standing by his side, supporting him. He could see that there was purpose to Dean's actions and wanted to be part of whatever was the plan. It was an effort just to move but the daemon was more than a little distracted by his animated discussions with Raphael and Uriel and so his control over Sam had wavered a little.

Tiny clouds of dust marked his slow progress as he crabbed his way through the dirt and after what seemed like an age he finally reached his brother. Now he was close Sam could see how pale Dean really was, see the thin sheen of sweat coating his skin and he knew from experience that his sibling was in agony.

"Dean? Oh god. Lemme see your arm..."

Sam whispered as he sat back on his heels next to his brother, reaching solicitously for Dean's obviously dislocated arm.

"Don't...Sam. Please!"

The elder Winchester hissed, jerking in pain as he snatched his arm away from Sam's probing fingers and then softened as he saw the look of hurt on his brother's concerned face.

"Leave it, Sam...Can't do anything about that right now..."

Widely dilated green eyes followed Sam's darker hazel, seeking and finding reluctant understanding. Sam nodded, glancing back at the angel group, checking Belial-within- Michael was still distracted.

"Okay, bro. It's your call, so what's the plan?"

Dean smiled wearily, happy to know he had his brother's support, Sam's trusting belief in him bolstering his failing strength.

"Wish...I knew...Sam!"

Dean gasped out in an ironic chuckle before his face became suddenly serious.

"I need to distract Belial. I think if I can occupy him..."

Dean paused as Sam shook his head vehemently.

"We...We distract him, Dean. Either we both do this, together, or it doesn't happen."

The elder Winchester opened his mouth to object and then took in Sam's look of absolute determination and realised he wanted nothing more than to stand shoulder to shoulder with his brother as they went up against this creature and his unrelenting evil. He wanted to feel Sam's reassuring presence next to him on this one, even though he knew success or failure was ultimately down to him. He smiled.

"Okay, _we_, Sam..._We _need to distract him, give the angels a chance to start the binding."

Sam nodded his manner similarly serious now he knew he had won his brother's agreement for his involvement.

"Will they be able to bind him this time though, Dean? Last time, even with your help..."

Dean was nodding as he tried again to sway to his feet, and failed.

"I know more how to help now, Sam. We just need to give them time to start the incantation...distract him while they do and then I can augment their strength. I think I sorta know what to say, when the time comes."

Sam was watching the older man's face with interest as Dean detailed the rather flimsy plan. He could see confusion and uncertainty on his brother's pallid face but also determination and courage for what was to come.

"Okay?"

Dean's slightly unfocussed eyes held his brother's seeking affirmation for the flimsy plan. Sam smiled gently.

"I'm with ya, Dean. It might be a little more convincing if you could actually stand though!"

The comment was accurate if a touch sarcastic and Dean couldn't help but grin in return.

"Well, yeah...but you could help me out here you know, bro."

Sam clamped his hand carefully on Dean's arm to silence him.

"Can you spare enough energy to..."

He struggled for the words.

"To work your mojo so it counters Belial's? I need my strength back."

Dean nodded, kicking himself for not thinking of it sooner as he rested his hand in the middle of Sam's chest.

wWw

It was like a sudden bolt of lightning that blew away the dreadful lethargy that had dogged Sam since Belial attacked him. There was no subtlety to it as there was no time for finesse in Dean's actions. The older Winchester had simply found the web of evil that Belial had woven about s brother and tore it asunder. It cost him little and yet left Sam feeling reborn.

The younger man shook himself and reached down carefully, half guiding, half lifting his brother to his feet as they listened to the daemon's roar of indignation.

"I think he knows I'm loose!"

Dean nodded as he stumbled on his wounded leg, hissing in pain as Sam steadied him.

"Pity you can't heal yourself."

The tall man observed as they turned to face Belial.

"Ya think!"

Dean growled as they stood side by side against their daemon foe.

wWw

Raphe and Uri had done their best to distract the daemon and had positioned themselves, as much as possible, to hide Sam's agonisingly slow crawl over to his brother from Belial's gaze. They had seen, as they argued, Dean heal Raguel and their short exchange resulting in Raguel feigning his continued unconsciousness. They didn't know exactly what the hunter was planning but knew the binding incantation was pivotal and mentally they were both prepared for their part.

wWw

The incensed daemon made straight for Sam, determined not just to take the younger hunter out of the equation once and for all, but to inflict maximum impact on the elder. Belial knew that hurting Sam was the worst punishment he could meter out for Dean and he had no qualms about how he achieved that.

Dean saw the daemon's intent and moved shakily to stand before his brother. The movement made him tremble with pain but he fought to keep the look of agony from his face, determined to give no more advantage to Belial than was absolutely necessary.

"You want him, you sonofabitch? You gotta come through me first."

Dean ground out, the challenge flashing fire in his dilated eyes.

"That will be my pleasure, Winchester."

Belial smiled obscenely as he raised his hand, power surging through him as he prepared to destroy Sam, to toss him aside like the insignificant scrap of humanity that he was.

However, the elder Winchester was ready for the daemon's onslaught this time and flung forth his own power, shielding his younger brother from the intensity of the blow. Sam staggered a little but was not thrown across the arena as Belial had expected. The deflection threw the archangel's possessor off balance and slowed his progression, allowing Sam time to reach into his inner pocket and retrieve the small flask he carried there as the daemon shrieked his rage at his sudden impotence.

"Dean!"

Raphael's shout attracted the hunter's attention and he threw the sharp silver blade he had been hiding from the daemon to Dean's shaky hand, hoping the little blade would provide some measure of protection in the upcoming battle.

wWw

The holy water arched from the flask splashing against Michael's chest and cheek, blinding him as it entered his eyes, halting his head-long rush at the brothers. The blessed water burned and sizzled against the possessed angel's skin and his control of the situation, and of his host, slipped ever so slightly, enraging him.

"Now, Sam!"

Dean launched himself towards the huge being, Sam hard on his heels as Michael staggered in pain. Dean regretted the injury to the possessed angel but knew that this distraction may prove to be their only chance to turn the fight. They impacted together, driving the angel from his feet, to land in an untidy tangle of long limbs in the swirling dust.

"Now, Raphe..."

Dean's cry was roughened by agony as his shoulder ground in the ruined socket and Sam, seeing his brother's pain, leapt to pin the possessed angel to the floor.

"The...binding..."

Dean ground the words between teeth clenched against the burning pain of his wounds as Belial roared in anger.

"No!"

The daemon moved to silence the elder hunter but was thwarted by Sam's hold on him. Belial manipulated Michael's fist and drove it violently into Sam's jaw, stunning the younger man, as he reached for Dean.

"Recite...binding!"

The elder Winchester screamed as he slashed weakly at Michael's grasping hands with the silver blade, desperate to keep out of the daemon's grip. The horrors of Belial's previous tortures flooded his mind and the memories of the perverted pleasure Mikey had taken in inflicting agony upon agony made Dean's skin crawl.

"Now! Dammit...Now!"

The hunter called urgently and the angels' voices rose together, en masse, as they joined hands and began to recite the binding incantation once again.

"Nos smite thee turpis daemon pervox of Senior..."

Belial felt the power of the angels surge around him as the hated words of the ancient ritual began. He arched his back in pain, building his own power to hurl back as the hunters clung to Michael's writhing body. He felt the words of the divine trio tugging at his grip on their brother and he struggled wildly beneath the combined weight of the Winchesters, desperate to crush the meddlesome angels once and for all.

"Be silent!"

Michael's powerful voice rose at the daemon's behest and he tore his hand free of Sam's grasp to direct his wrath at the angel triumvirate.

"Enough! I will still your vile litany permanently. Prepare Angels. I return to your detested creator."

"Dean!"

Sam felt the tension growing in Michael as Belial gathered his strength and he shouted a warning to Dean, unsure if the elder hunter was lucid enough to see what was happening. His cry was unnecessary though as Dean had felt the gathering power and countered the daemon's bolt of evil energy with one of his own. The air around the angels crackled with opposing flashes of power as they continued their recitation.

"Nos smite thee turpis daemon pervox of Senior..."

Sam heard their words reverberate over the roar of the divine Vs demonic battle that raged around him and glanced at his brother as he continued to try and pin Michael to the ground.

"Is...it...working?"

He was breathless with effort, and as he looked into Dean's eyes he saw the bright whiteness growing there as it had back in the cellar in 'My Tartarus' all those weeks ago. He could feel the strange new power surging again within his brother. It was, at once, both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Dean managed a nod, just as Michael caught him a savage blow to the belly, and the older hunter curled in on himself, gasping in pain. Sam threw a punch in the direction of Michael's face and was delighted to feel it impact bone.

"...gain...say...gain..."

Dean could barely get the words out and Sam knew the angels had not heard him. He shouted over the renewed din from beyond the gates of Hades.

"Again, Uriel! Repeat the binding. Say it again."

wWw

The daemon made again to rise, his face scant inches from Sam's, as he raged and spat his fury at the angels renewed chanting of the words of the binding. He could feel their combined energies tugging at his demonic presence, threatening to haul it from the body of their brother but they did not quite have the power.

Their voices rose again, chanting the cleansing Latin text but to no avail and the daemon laughed.

"They cannot do it, Winchester!"

Belial turned Michael's head towards Dean where he struggled to hold the being's flailing arm and Sam could see the anger in Dean's eyes at the truth of the daemon's words.

"They cannot bind one such as me. They were too weak last time and they are again impotent now. Even if you could go to them and join your power to theirs, you would fail. Your power is too raw, too un-schooled. You do not have the skill to rival mine! So, I shall take it from you...permanently!"

As he taunted, Belial kicked and gouged with his hands. The blows fell painfully enough on Sam but he could see that their impact was far more significant on Dean. The older man was pale, his eyes beginning to roll and his grip on the daemon's left arm tenuous at best, as he could do nothing with his own injured arm. Each movement the daemon forced from his reluctant host sent shock waves of pain surging through the injured hunter and Sam could see Dean's depleted endurance being exceeded.

"Nos smite thee turpis daemon pervox of Senior. Nos smite thee turpis daemon pervox of Senior..."

The words of the binding tumbled around Sam and he found himself, out of habit, translating them in his head - _We smite thee foul daemon with the power of the Lord, and break the bond that holds our angel brother Michael in your sway_.

He remembered back to the previous binding, in that fetid cellar beneath the daemon's lair. He saw again his brother's ravaged body and watched Dean weep as the daemon finally broke him and knew that, as he had then, Dean needed to be in physical contact with the angels to maximise their combined power.

Sam gathered his strength and pinning Michael's right arm to the floor with his knee, flung himself across the possessed angel's bucking torso, pushing his brother as gently as he could away from the evil being's body.

"Get to Raphe and the others, Dean."

The older man rolled away, struggled to his knees. He held his arm close to his body, his face grey with pain as he swayed in the dirt. His eyes swam to focus on Sam's and the green that he knew so well was augmented with shimmering flashes of white. The effect was akin to a lightning storm and Sam drew in his breath at the un-worldliness of Dean at that moment.

"Can you...hold him?"

Dean made to rise as he gasped out the question and Belial fired Michael's hand out to find the silver blade still lodged in Dean's thigh. The daemon grasped the hilt and wrenched the blade from its bloody sheath, raising it to strike at Dean's heart but the hunter parried the blow with the twin blade still gripped in his good hand. Dean's blow struck true and Belial's blade cleaved from its hilt and tumbled to the floor, as the hunter's struck flesh, tearing muscle and sinew to ruin the daemon's forearm, as Sam struck another blow to Michael's jaw.

"Dean! Can you get up?"

Dean knelt in the dust, shuddering, his good hand pressed to the river of fresh crimson that flowed from the newly disgorging wound. He raised his head, his breath coming in little pants as he swayed. He made to try and rise only to moan in pain and grip at his thigh.

"Weak! Pathetic! I will crush you, Winchester, but not before I force you to see all you love die in agony before you!"

Belial taunted as his black eyes sparkled with the reflection of the pooling blood, and Dean grimaced, steeling himself with the last of his resolve as he hauled himself shakily to his feet, limping brokenly towards the chanting angels.

wWw

He made it only three or four faltering steps before his injured leg gave out completely and Dean sank to his knees a few feet from the angels.

"Raphe..."

His cry was weak and Raphael opened his eyes, seeking his friend's injuries up close.

"Dean!"

The angel's concentration wavered, drawn by the undisguised agony in Dean's voice and the power of the binding spell faltered. Beneath Sam, Belial pushed his momentary advantage and summoning all his power, threw Sam to the side and surged to his feet.

"Dean, look out!"

Sam grabbed for Michael's leg, making him stumble and Raphael took that moment to break from his brother angels and swoop down and haul Dean to his feet dragging him into the circle with them.

As soon as the four of them made contact Dean felt the god-given power within him flair and he raised his head and nodded to the others as they, with one voice, resumed the chanting. The angels repeated the base note of the binding, working to free their brother from the daemon's grasp.

"Nos smite thee turpis daemon pervox of Senior. Nos smite thee turpis daemon pervox of Senior..."

New words, however, came to Dean's lips. He was unsure where they came from or how he knew them, but he closed his eyes as they reverberated in his head and powered from his lips to augment those of the angels.

wWw

"Reverto is creatura , Senior , ut Hades ex unde is venit. Redimio is illic forever quod expello it's nomen Fides , ex orbis terrarum of Vir."

The words bit into Belial's being and raked his body with claws of fire. He howled in mortal anguish and flung every molecule of hatred and pain that he had at Dean as the hunter, supported both physically and spiritually by the three angels, recited the litany of divine destruction once more.

Sam watched from his sprawl as the light that had emanated from Dean at the first binding grew and engulfed first the angels and then Bobby and Jo where they lay on the floor. He saw them stir, their eyes opening as the ribbon of light grew and pulsed its power.

""Reverto is creatura , Senior , ut Hades ex unde is venit. Redimio is illic forever quod expello it's nomen Fides , ex orbis terrarum of Vir."

Dean chanted the words again and Sam felt the white light of the binding as it covered him, too. He heard in his head the words, Dean's familiar voice giving them power – _Return this creature, Lord, to Hades from whence it came. Bind it there forever and banish its name, Belial, from the world of Man._

He watched as Michael's head tipped back, his mouth opening despite the attempted lock tight of his jaw and the daemon spewed forth. The blackness roiling in the air as the cacophony of torment from Hades magnified. Dean raised his arms, the movement creasing his brow as his dislocated shoulder grated but he was beyond physical pain and still he chanted as the black vapour that was Belial rolled and tumbled towards the gates as they slowly opened.

Sam turned his face from the vision beyond the glowing iron, unwilling to voluntarily witness the depravity that the gates withheld and instead he kept his eyes locked onto his brother as Dean bound the daemon to hell.

Light encapsulated Dean. He stood shoulder to shoulder with the angels and the ribbon of light bound them together, weaving in and out of them, creating for Dean quasi-wings of bright whiteness against the glowing depths of Hades beyond. His eyes shone with otherworldliness and Sam looked on in awe as his brother clanged tight the gates of Hell, banishing the daemon forever.

Chapter ends


	27. Chapter 27

**Here's the final chapter. I hope you enjoy it and many thanks for reading and reviewing. **

**So Not An Angel! By DeansBabyBird**

Chapter 27 Healing – body and soul

Bobby was astounded by the stunning purity of the silence that followed the victorious clanging shut of the gates of Hades. He knew without asking that the integrity of the barrier had been restored and reinforced by the energy of the angels and the astounding power that Dean had learned to harness. He felt humbled to have witnessed the phenomenon but drained by the intensity of it. He reached out a slightly unsteady hand to grasp Jo's trembling form and, knowing she was equally as shaken, drew the weeping huntress toward him.

He took her in his arms, feeling her sobs rattle against his chest as the terror of all they had helplessly observed crowded in on them. The brief vision of Hell that they had witnessed as Dean had opened the gates and forced Belial to eternal confinement had shaken them to the core with its foulness. He closed his eyes against the terrible visions that danced before his reluctant eyes. Jo's warmth and humanity were reassuring as he held her and he felt his heart rate slowly drop as she leaned into his safe embrace. It was a few moments before he could speak.

"Are you okay?"

His voice was muffled as he pressed his stubbly chin to the top of her head while they knelt in the warm dust. He felt her nod and seconds later draw in a shaky, but reasonably composed breath.

"Is he gone, Bobby...Belial I mean, gone forever?"

Jo leaned away from the old hunter, her face was soot streaked and tracked with her tears but there was a look of defiant courage that made the old man smile with pride.

"Yup, I think so."

"Thank God."

"Yeah, maybe so!"

Bobby speculated and Jo's pale face cracked a hesitant smile, realising how close to divinity they had been, as they helped each other up.

"Do you hurt anywhere?"

The old hunter cast his practised eye over the tiny girl as she flexed her arms and legs experimentally, pleased to have control of her own form again.

"No, I'm fine, I think."

She nodded happily up at Bobby and his brief grunt confirmed his agreement of her appraisal.

"We seem to have got away lucky..."

The hasty words left Jo's lips as the immediate shock of the situation lessened and her thoughts hurtled back to their companions. Bobby saw the look of sudden panic cross her face, and he turned with her, similar concern marring his own countenance as they remembered their fallen friends.

"Oh, Bobby. The others! Oh my god. Dean?"

wWw

The ribbon of light faded slowly as the reverberation of the closing gates shuddered the air around the angels. Its dissipation took with it the immediate connection the angels and Dean had, collapsing their circle. Wounds reasserted themselves and soft cries of reawakened pain peppered the air as strength gave out and the hunter and angels threatened to crash to the floor.

"Raguel...Help me with Uri! I can't hold them both."

Raphe's authoritative voice drifted from the distance toward Sam as the disoriented hunter shook himself and rolled to his knees, rubbing the kicked-up dust from his bloodshot eyes as he desperately sought Dean amongst the collective of incrementally damaged angels.

Raguel easily bore the weight of his more diminutive brother and he lowered Uriel gently to the floor, taking great care to avoid putting any pressure on the angel's ruined leg. Raguel could feel Uri shuddering in pain and he looked worriedly at Raphe as the healer shifted his weight so he could support Dean as the exhausted hunter sagged against him.

"Raphe, he's hurting bad."

Concern pulsed through the huge being's words and Raphael acknowledged his brother angel's compassion with a brief glance and nod.

"I know, brother. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Raphe's hands were full supporting Dean but he also had an eye on Michael, wobbly on his feet now Belial had been exorcised from his physical being. He was bleeding from the knife wound but seemed otherwise unhurt.

"Michael. Sit down before you fall down!"

The healer's gaze cast about until his compassionate eyes lighted, gratefully, on the younger Winchester.

"Sam. Help me here, can you?"

Sam was on his feet and striding to the grey haired angel's side even as Michael obeyed his brother and folded dizzily to his knees in the dirt. The Prince of Angel's was shaken and the wound Dean had torn in his forearm was bleeding profusely but he was lucid enough to acknowledge the hunter with a weak smile, waving him away towards Dean, knowing the hunter to be the real source of Sam's concerns.

"Let me take him, Raphe."

Sam's arm chased around Dean's waist and between them they slowly lowered the injured hunter to the floor beside the fallen angels. Sam could feel Dean's pain, evident as it was in his rigid stance, and hitching breath. He knelt quickly behind his brother, gentling the exhausted man against him as he spoke.

"Dean?"

Exhausted eyes fluttered weakly as Dean tipped his head back so it rested against Sam's chest and he found his focus on his brother's face. Little fire-flashes of the pure white that had marked Dean's divine power still radiated within the usual jade, alongside the dilation that his pain delivered.

"Hey...Sammy..."

Dean's voice was kitten weak but he smiled as his head rolled against his brother's chest. The motion jarred his shoulder and Sam heard the exclamation of pain from Dean's lips as he felt the unhealthy grind of the dislocated joint.

"Y'okay?"

The familiar and anticipated enquiry reached Sam's ear on the retreat of Dean's muffled groan of pain and though, as it was oft irritating, it was most welcome. Sam eased round a little as he replied so that he could continue to hold Dean in his long reach but the injured hunter didn't need to contort his neck to see him.

"I'm just fine, Dean. Let's worry about you for a change..."

The younger hunter watched intently as Dean blinked his receipt of the traditional reply, his practised eye checking for signs of clarity and condition of the patient as he observed.

"How're...others?"

Dean's words were a little slurred as Sam felt him move to sit up. He quickly placed his hand on his brother's chest, gently restraining him.

"Lay still, Dean."

The elder hunter continued to try and rise until his wounds drew a soft growl of pain.

"They're all in much better shape than you are, Dean. Just lay still and let Raphe check you out."

The healer angel took his cue and knelt at the opposite side of the prostrate hunter. He lifted his hands, intent on preparing to heal Dean.

"No!"

Dean's voice was unsteady but there was no ambiguity in his eyes as he struggled weakly against Sam's restraint and it stilled the healer angel's hands. Raphe's grey eyes focussed on Deans as the hunter tried determinedly to sit up, but failed.

"Dean. Be still! You're bleeding all over the place. Just let me heal you."

The healer's words were compassionate, though forceful, but still Dean struggled against his brother's embrace.

"No...Raphe...don't..."

Sam glanced into Raphael's eyes, shaking his head in frustration before turning back to his brother.

"Is it because it still hurts when he heals you?"

Dean shook his head in frustration as he answered breathlessly.

"No...Not that..."

Sam relented and gently eased Dean a bit more upright. The motion made the horizon spin and he subtly tightened his grip, steadying his swaying brother.

"Raphe, his leg..."

Sam nodded his head towards Dean's thigh where the movement had increased the steady trickle of blood from the open knife wound. The healer sucked in his breath and looked across to Bobby.

"Bobby, can you get my kit from the car? I need to stem the flow of blood here."

The old hunter rose and moved swiftly towards the vehicles as Raphe turned back to his patient. He looked the elder Winchester steadily in the eye as he spoke. His words were soft but authoritative and Sam watched his brother's wavering attention pull sharply into focus.

"Dean. I need to heal you. You're bleeding heavily here and your shoulder's a wreck..."

"I...know..."

Dean smiled a little as he spoke.

"I know, and I want you to heal me, Raphe..."

The healer nodded.

"Okay. I still hear a but though. What's the problem? Are you afraid?"

Dean shook his head, but stopped quickly as the motion made him nauseous. He swallowed hard and lifted his gaze tiredly to the angel's waiting face.

"I need you to tell me something before you start the healing. Okay?"

Raphael accepted his medical kit from Bobby as he acknowledged Dean's question. He withdrew a large gauze pad and, after un-wrapping it, pressed it heavily to the hunter's bleeding thigh.

Pain flared in the jagged knife wound and Dean started in Sam's arms. He thrust his head back against Sam's chest, his teeth clenched against a tight groan. It was matched by a similar cry of distress from Uriel as Raguel's worried voice reached their ears.

"Raphe? Gonna need you here real soon."

All eyes turned to the huge angel where he sat in the dirt, cradling Uriel's shivering form to him. The diminutive being was ghost pale. His eyes squeezed shut as his hands clutched convulsively at Raguel's arm.

"I'll be there as quick as I can, Rags. Keep him still if you can."

The angel nodded and then smiled as Jo knelt beside him, a bottle of water in her hand.

"Uri?"

Her words were tentative, as if she feared his response in some way. Bright white eyes flickered open at the sound of her voice.

"Hey...Jo..."

He was breathless with pain, but tried to smile nether the less.

"Do you want a drink of water?"

She cracked the cap and held it gently to his lips and he nodded, but the slight movement brought him pain and he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Let me help."

Michael had crawled, the world spinning about him, from the place he had fallen, to his brother's head and he sat back on his heels next to the others. With infinite care, he gently placed his hand behind Uriel's head and slightly inclined his brother's head toward the proffered bottle.

"Drink, brother."

Jo carefully tipped the bottle, smiling in relief as most of the liquid hit its mark.

"Michael? Is that you? Is it gone?"

Uriel's hesitant question tore at Jo's heart. She could hear the concern for his brother pouring from him.

"Yes, Uri. It's me. I'm safe and Belial's locked away finally."

Uri couldn't help the tears that trickled from his eyes. Michael wiped them away.

"You saved me, Uriel. I'm free, thanks to you all."

The suffering angel sighed and Michael took the proffered cloth from Jo's hand and laid the cool, damp fabric to Uriel's fevered forehead.

"It was my fault you were..."

Michael interrupted gently, his voice kind but determined.

"Enough of this, Uriel. It 's done now. I am free and the daemon is gone. You have tormented yourself for long enough and I will have an end to it."

Michael looked up into Raguel's astute face as he spoke and found agreement there.

"But..."

"No, Uriel. No buts. Just forgiveness for all of us."

The arch-angel's eyes shone with love and even through his pain, Uriel smiled.

wWw

"So, what do you want me to tell you?"

Raphe took the second gauze pad from Bobby's hand as he spoke, pressing it even harder on top of the already soaked dressing on Dean's thigh. The pain made Dean gasp and he started, jarring his shoulder as he moved. His arm slipped from his lap to hang limply in its ruined socket as he panted against rekindled agony.

"Raphe, please! Just do it."

Sam's words were a plea and the healer raised his hands once more, hovering towards Dean's many wounds.

"No..! Raphael...don't!

Dean struggled weakly in Sam's strong embrace but could not shift his brother's hands. He managed to lift his arm and push ineffectually at the healer's arm.

"No...listen to me, Raphael, please!"

The angel steeled himself and ignored the hunter's plaintive cry. Sam was right, Dean was bleeding out in front of him and he could wait no longer.

He relaxed his mind, focussing his powers, feeling his god given energy gathering within him. He rested his hands gently against Dean's shoulder and thigh, pushing forward his healing, anticipating the warm welcome glow of divine restitution.

And...

Nothing!

It was like his mojo had been turned off. He could feel it all there within him but could not project it out. There was a wall holding him back. He looked toward his patient and saw concentration etched on Dean's face.

"You're blocking me?"

Disbelief hung on Raphael's words. No one had blocked his healing powers, ever. Not that most people wanted to try but those few who had wanted, had been unable. He was an arch-angel after all.

He was supposed to be all powerful.

God dammit!

Dean inclined his head ever so slightly, careful not to pull on his wounded shoulder.

"Don't be angry."

He moved his hand to touch Raphe's.

"I want you to heal me, Raphe."

The angel's brow crumpled in confusion and he glanced at Sam seeing a similar lack of understanding on the young hunter's face.

"Then why are you blocking me? Not to mention how. Let me heal you already."

Dean laughed and it turned to a cough and then a groan. It took a moment to get his breathing under control.

"A question first..."

The angel nodded and Dean continued.

"How much...will it take out of you...for you to heal me?"

Raphael was taken aback but he considered the question, letting his eyes wander again over Dean's many wounds. The hunter's shoulder was hugely damaged. His arm hung unnaturally from a ruined joint, dislocated again, the socket grinding with shards of shattered bone. The long wound tracking across his collar bone was patterned with popped sutures, blooming tiny crimson flowers to match the crimson swathes carved by the daemon as Dean and possessed-Jo had fought. His forearm and sliced bicep dripped slowly into the dry dust, turning it a deeper shade of red. However, it was his thigh that gave the angel more concern. The jagged tear was inches long and blood trickled insistently despite the pressure dressings binding it tightly.

Raphael looked back at the hunter, his face serious and concerned.

"I can't heal all this at one go, Dean. It's too much complex damage for me to mend in one healing. I couldn't begin to attempt it without draining myself totally. I don't have the power that you do."

Dean nodded something akin to relief on his face.

"That's what I thought."

Raphe wrapped his fingers around Dean's where the hunter's hand rested on his arm.

"But I would do my best for you, Dean."

The healer angel smiled as the wounded man squeezed his hand.

"I know...but it would exhaust you totally, Raphe. Wouldn't it?"

"Yes...but you need me to heal you. You can't heal yourself. Your power will work only for the others."

"Wait!"

Sam's excited voice interjected, silencing the angel.

"I think I understand."

All eyes turned to the younger Winchester.

"It's not that Dean doesn't want you to heal him, Raphe. It's just that he knows, hell, we all know, that if you try and heal him fully, it'll burn you out."

"'Xactly..."

Dean's weak voice confirmed.

"But..?"

Confusion highlighted Bobby's words.

"But Dean can then heal the others, so even if Raphe's mojo is tapped out, you can do the others. Can't you?"

The old hunter looked down at the stricken man.

"I don't know, Bobby. I think maybe I can but..."

Dean turned his attention back to his healer mentor, Raphael.

"You have infinite power, Dean."

The angel bowed his head respectfully to the hunter. The gesture was not lost on Sam and Bobby.

"But I'm still learning to channel it, Raphe. If you exhaust yourself and then I can't heal Uri and the others what am I gonna do? I need your experience to guide me, Raphael."

The angel nodded as understanding dawned.

"So you want to do this, how?"

Dean relaxed visibly as he realised that they now understood his refusal to be healed and knew that Raphael was not offended.

"You have to let me heal the others first, Raphe, then you..."

"No! No way, Dean."

Sam's voice was strident with concern for his brother and he twisted so he could directly see his brother's face. The movement pushed against Dean's shoulder and the hunter's hand flew to his ruined joint as he cried out in pain.

"Careful, Sam!"

Bobby reached forward and steadied the trembling hunter.

"You okay?"

Bobby followed the younger man's dilated eyes.

"Gnna...throw...up..."

"Turn him, quickly!"

Raphe's urgent words galvanised Sam and Bobby to action. They were as gentle as possible but the pain they provoked for the injured hunter was tremendous and when they turned him back after he had stopped heaving, Dean was grey and shaking.

"Bobby, can you get me a blanket?"

Raphael tipped his chin towards the open SUV and the old hunter nodded and headed for the vehicle.

"Dude. I know you wanna do this but can you really heal anyone, the state you're in?"

Concern for his brother oozed from the younger Winchester's words and Dean shifted his hand to touch Sam's forearm. His fingers were icy cold.

"Sam...Raphe can't heal both Uriel and me and I won't have him suffer if I can help. I have to do Uriel, and check the others out, and then, when I've done as much as I can..."

"Done as much as you can? Like when you healed me and Bobby and you were unconscious for hours afterwards?"

Fear for his brother made Sam's voice harsh and Raphael watched as Dean's shivering intensified with Sam's increasing timbre.

"Sam. I'll stop...before I'm...too weak..."

Dean's breathlessness belied his increasing pain and only contributed to Sam's anxiety but that anxiety manifested as anger, the hunter's words increasing in tone even further.

"I don't believe you, Dean. You'll see Uriel's pain and want to take that all away for him. You're not gonna stop when you need to."

Dean trembled in the face of Sam's anger, unable to find his breath to respond as his brother continued.

"You're weaker now than you were when you healed me and Bobby. You're in no damn shape for this and I won't have it! Dammit, Dean. I won't have you hurt again."

It was a chin jutting challenge and although the angel could understand the younger man's nervousness, knew it was all born of his love for his brother, he knew this wasn't helping with Dean's deteriorating condition. He struggled to find the right words to resolve the situation.

The sudden hand on Raphe's shoulder made him start and he took the blanket from Bobby with an apologetic smile before draping it carefully around the injured man. He smiled at Dean as he did so, trying to reassure the clearly distressed hunter.

"Sam."

Raphael picked his words carefully, knowing that he was on sensitive, and somewhat untested, ground.

"Sam, I understand your concerns and I don't want to see Dean hurt any more than you do, but he is right."

The younger man looked upwards in frustration as Raphael continued.

"If Dean does as much as he can, as much as it's safe for him to do, for Uriel and Michael, then afterwards I can work on him. I won't be able to totally heal him but I'll be able to make him comfortable."

"And if it goes wrong?"

Sam turned his threatening dark hazel eyes on the angel.

"It won't, Sam."

Dean's voice was soft, tired and Sam instantly regretted that Dean thought he doubted him.

"It's not that I don't believe in you, Dean. Hell, I'm amazed at what you can do..."

Sam's face softened and Dean smiled despite his increasing pain.

"I'm just worried for ya...That's all. You've been through too much and I don't wanna see you in that state again..."

Sam stopped. Gulping, as tears threatened to spill down his face. Dean nodded.

"I know, but this is the only way, Sam. And Raphe'll watch out for me..."

He glanced up at Raphael, taking Sam's worried eyes with him to the angel's steady grey gaze.

"Promise you'll make him stop when..."

Raphe interjected with absolute authority.

"He'll stop, Sam. You have my word."

Raphael's face showed he meant business, yet still Sam hesitated and it was left to Bobby to settle the matter.

"The word of an arch-angel, Sam..."

The older man's confident face reassured the nervous Winchester. Sam sighed, still concerned but defeated.

"Okay. I give up. Let's get this over with."

wWw

It was only a short distance to move Dean so that he could lay his hands on those he needed to heal. Bobby, Sam and Raphe were as gentle as they could be in lifting him but still the movement saw his pain, and the associated nausea, re-assert itself. They lowered him carefully to the floor, alongside but facing Uriel, and Sam hurried to kneel at his head so he could support the injured man.

"You gonna throw up?"

Sam's question was based on the pallor of his brother's face and was answered with just a tight shake of the head but Dean did nothing to fight off the cool, damp cloth that Jo placed on his forehead as he swallowed repeatedly. She knelt in the dust beside Sam and Dean felt her small hand move to his back, to rub reassuring circles over his filthy T-shirt as he waited for the nausea to fade.

He rolled his head carefully to the side so he could see her face and, despite feeling like crap, he smiled at her.

"How...doing...Jo..."

He whispered.

"Better for seeing you."

She lifted the cloth and wiped at the caked on blood and dirt on his face. It made little difference in truth but the touch of her hand was good. She returned his smile.

"Really? You seemed eager to get away from me before."

His green eyes found hers and the intensity of his stare was enough that Jo felt a blush creeping up her neck.

She glanced at Sam and Raphael, knowing that they could not help but hear their conversation. They both looked discretely away as she looked back to Dean.

"It wasn't that...I didn't want to leave you. It was just that I wanted to help, to do my bit. I wanted to make sure you were safe, that Belial would never be able to hurt you again."

"I thought maybe...you'd rather be...with Uri..."

Dean's pale green eyes were hugely dilated with pain and Jo felt herself in danger of tipping over into them. Her heart was racing. She had so much to say but she knew this was not the time. She traced her hand down his battered cheek.

"We'll talk about this when you're better..."

He leaned his cheek into her hand and held her gaze as the blush crept up to her cheeks. It was left to Raphe to thoughtfully bail her out.

"Dean..."

The hunter looked toward the healer angel.

"We need to get on with this. Your bleeding is getting worse...And Uri..."

He tipped his head toward Uriel where he lay supported by Michael and Raguel. The slight angel was paler than Dean and sweat was pouring down his face. His breathing was shallow and rapid as his hand grasped compulsively at the thigh of his shattered leg.

The obvious pain that the being was experiencing focused Dean's thoughts. He turned from Jo and made to sit upright so he could reach Uriel's knee.

"Sorry, Uri."

There was genuine concern in the hunter's words as he struggled to get into position and he was relieved to feel Sam's strong hands helping him to sit upright. He paused a moment, letting the world stop spinning, and then looked to Raphe.

"Okay. I think I need to do it all as one thing."

The healer angel nodded, pretty sure he understood what Dean meant, yet amazed that he would have the strength to do it. Raphael knew he, himself, would not.

"So, get them all to connect to each other so you can flow your energy from one to the other?"

Dean nodded, as Raphe placed Raguel and Michael so that they not only supported Uri but also contacted each other, so the energy Dean was about to channel could flow from one to the next.

Dean placed his hand very carefully on Uriel's knee. The angel groaned softly but looked up into the hunter's face, the barest hint of a smile crossing his lips.

"Thank you..."

Uri's voice was a whisper and Sam watched as both Michael and Raguel's arms tightened defensively around him.

"I'll look after you...brother."

Dean's words visibly touched the angel and his ethereal white eyes fastened onto Dean's as he touched the hunter's hand.

"I know you will."

Then Uriel's mouth quirked cheekiliy.

"Leave me the limp though, hunter...chicks dig the limp!"

Dean grinned.

"Okay, angel!"

Uriel sighed and closed his eyes, settling back against his brothers.

"Dean?"

Raphe placed his hand on the hunter's uninjured shoulder, drawing his attention. His face was very serious.

"You must withdraw when I tell you."

Dean nodded, but the angel tightened his grip.

"I mean it."

His tone of voice allowed no misinterpretation.

"If you push too far here, I will not be able to pull you back. You must swear you will break the connection when I ask it of you."

Dean looked from the earnest angel to his brother's worried face and back.

"Raphael, when you say withdraw, I'll withdraw."

The angel held his gaze for a few more seconds, convincing himself that this was the right course of action, until Bobby's pragmatic voice kicked in.

"Good, boy. 'Cause if you don't do as Raphe here say's, I'll have to knock you clean into next week!"

The comment broke the tension and Dean smiled.

"Ready, Raphe?"

The angel placed his hand firmly over Dean's and bowed his head as the power of Dean Winchester pulsated into being.

wWw

The energy flow was more measured this time as Dean released the barriers and sought the source of Uriel, Michael and Raguel's pain. His seeking was more controlled and, though Raphe could feel the intuitive healer's heart rate speed up, he was not as concerned for Dean as he had been when he had healed before. It felt more polished this time, and while he was sure it still gave pain to act out his gift, Raphael was equally sure that his pupil was learning to wall that away more effectively.

The angel watched in stunned disbelief as Dean's power, though concentrated on Uriel, flowed into the other angels, and indeed into Sam, Bobby and Jo. He applauded silently as the hunter managed complex multiple streams of energy that soothed the more minor hurts of the assembled group, whilst he kept his prime focus on Uriel's shattered knee.

Raphael used only the odd flicker of directional energy here and there to aid and augment the massive healing torrent that poured from Dean and, if truth be known, he felt humbled in the presence of this young man's extraordinary skill.

He watched in delight, as did Sam and the others, as Michael's lacerated forearm neatly knitted muscle and flesh back together with barely a scar, and Raphe made happy eye contact with a finally fully alert Raguel for the first time following his daemon-induced head injury.

"The boy's good!"

Raguel spoke softly across at his brother and Raphe nodded happily. Seriously, the possibilities within this man astounded him.

wWw

Sam could feel the energy pulsing out of Dean as he held him upright against his chest. It was a difficult sensation to describe, like heat was being generated within Dean and fired through him into the assembled group. The process had beauty and peace within it, but Sam also felt the slowly increasing tension within his brother and knowing him as well as he did, knew that there was pain there too.

"Raphe?"

He pushed out his elbow, nudging the angel as he carefully strengthened his grip on his brother and was sure he heard the slightest groan from Dean as a result.

"He's tensing up..."

Sam's eyes cast down to Dean and both hunter and angel saw the increasing tremor in the healer's outstretched arm.

"Michael?"

The Prince of Angel's looked to Raphe.

"Is your arm well?"

The being smiled, touching his healed wound.

"Then break your hold with Raguel..."

The angel did as he was bade.

"And Raguel, lay Uriel down on the ground and don't touch him."

Raguel glanced at Dean and back to Raphe.

"He needs to concentrate his remaining energy on Uri and your contact may distract him."

Raguel nodded, settling his charge carefully to the ground.

The movement required Dean to lean forward in order to maintain contact with the angel's knee and Sam felt him begin to tremble as he stretched. He moved in closer to his brother, slipping his hand around Dean's waist to steady him.

"Raphe?"

The angel raised his eyes, acknowledging Sam's concern.

"Yes, it is near, Sam."

The healer leaned closer to his pupil and observed the patient's vastly improved knee. Bone had grown strong beneath Dean's hand and the integrity of the capsule of the knee was restored, as was much of the supporting soft tissue.

Raphe sought his brother's face. Uriel was less pale and Raphael was delighted to see him smile as they made eye contact.

It was enough.

"Dean?"

Raphael squeezed the hunter's hand and demanded his attention.

wWw

There was less pain to begin with this time and Dean felt energised by the flow of healing power that built within him and then flowed to the multiple targets as he worked. It felt more intuitive now to heal, more like something he was meant to do, and he enjoyed the feeling of renewal it lent to him.

The pain was still there. The pain he healed in his recipient still came to him but he anticipated it now and built before it the walls to contain it, before it overwhelmed him. At least at first he did, but as he healed pieces of the others, pain began to assault him. The walls he needed to block away their suffering left him no strength to manage his own and his shoulder, forearm and thigh began to throb unmercifully.

He knew Sam felt him tense and knew also that his brother, of all people, saw that he was suffering, yet still he wanted to do that bit more. To make the others whole.

But he was weakening. The shaking in his arm became a tremor and when he felt Raphael say his name he knew it made sense to listen.

He withdrew his healing slowly so as not to shock Uriel and he heard the angel sigh as he retracted but even through his rapidly blurring vision he could see that the knee was 80% repaired.

The cessation of healing hit him like a blow and he could not help the soft cry of pain that accompanied his collapse against Sam as he drew back his power.

His shoulder burst into life, waves of agonising pain washing over him as Sam struggled to stop him folding to the floor. His leg too pulsed with new found pain and the flow of blood from the torn vessels renewed its vigorous flow.

"Can you hold him, Sam?"

He heard Raphe's worried voice only distantly as unconsciousness encroached and he steeled himself for the familiar pain that would accompany the angel's healing.

"I've got him, Raphe. Just help him please!"

Dean could hear the fear in Sam's voice and he tried to speak, to tell his brother he was okay. Alright he hurt and was tired to the point of exhaustion but he would be alright. But no sound came out. His eyes closed, unable as he was to find the strength to keep them open and in his head, a voice whispered.

"Be still my child. Rest now and let my servant heal thee. There will be no pain today, only the light."

Raphael felt the presence of the Lord as a gentle embracing hand and he opened his heart and allowed the love to flow through him and into his patient as the others looked on.

He knew that Dean felt no pain this time and he smiled, realising that, when this unique man awoke, they would have much to discuss.

The End.


End file.
